Skinny Love
by ThornDraconis
Summary: They weren't friends, were they? But they were friends, weren't they? It's the questions we can't answer that teach us the most. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. A tale of reluctant friendship and romance told throughout their years in Hogwarts. Rated M for language.
1. The train

"_It's the questions we can't answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give a man an answer, all he gains is a little fact. But give him a question and he'll look for his own answers."  
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear_

X

"May I sit down?"

Draco Malfoy was an eleven-year old boy who had a pointed face, grey eyes and white blonde hair meticulously fixed with hair gel. That was the day he had looked forward the most during his life: he was finally headed to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Well, he was a wizard and he had known that long before he could walk and talk. His family, especially Lucius, his Father, had almost engraved inside his brains that wizard blood ran inside his veins, and Draco's first accidental bouts of magic had been neither a reason for surprise nor celebration. To Lucius, Draco had done nothing more than what was expected of him; he was just taking what was rightly his, doing what he was supposed to. Now, however, he saw himself free of those leashes and headed to the one place where he would finally become the powerful wizard he longed to be.

"Of course, make yourself comfortable."

Hermione Granger was also eleven years old, though about to turn twelve in a matter of days. She was a skinny, amber-eyed girl with a mane of thick, bushy brown hair. That was the day she had looked forward the most during her life, even though she had found out that she was a witch just some weeks ago. From a very young age, Hermione had had accidental bouts of magic in school or back home, which had always caused her parents to be so incredibly concerned about her. They were never sure how to handle their daughter, although they knew deep down that she was a special, brilliant little girl. However, when Professor Minerva McGonagall had visited them during the summer and brought news that she was a witch with a secured place in a school full of witches and wizards just like her, Hermione had felt lighter than ever. She was not alone. Now, however, she felt no fear nor loneliness and was headed to the one place where she could finally learn all about magic and have friends for a change.

"I'm Draco," the pale boy said, extending his hand politely just like his Mother, Narcissa, had taught him.

"I'm Hermione," the girl replied with a small smile, shaking his hand.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, which was occasionally interrupted by Hermione turning the pages of the book she was reading fervently. Draco was watching her with mild interest out of the corner of his grey eyes; he had never seen her in the parties thrown by his parents or at the Diagon Alley. However, what caught his attention the most was the attention that Hermione seemed to pay to the book – Hogwarts, a History –, a book that he had read at least thrice the year before.

"What's so interesting about this book?" he asked with a blank expression, keeping to himself his curiosity about her demeanor.

"Well, I've already read it, _twice_ this past week," she replied with a bossy sort of tone, but then she raised her amber eyes and Draco realized that she seemed actually scared. Her hands were gripping tight at the book, her knuckles white with anxiety. "I just want to make sure that I know all about everything and don't screw up…"

"I'd recommend you read all about Slytherin, then," he offered with a nonchalant grin, hoping to sooth her anxiety.

"I don't know which House I'll be sorted into, but I suppose it doesn't really matter," she muttered, biting her lips and gazing fixedly at the boy, who was looking at her with a puzzled expression. "I guess I'm just happy to be here."

"If you happen to be sorted into Hufflepuff, then it _will_ make a difference. Only morons are sorted there," he mocked, clicking his tongue. Hermione rolled her eyes at that mean comment but wondered in brief panic whether she would qualify for Hufflepuff. Then, he tilted his head pensively to the side and examined her face before adding "But you _do _have brains, so I wouldn't worry about _that_."

"Ravenclaw seems good enough," she felt slightly relieved at his assessment, then shrugged and closed the book with a thud, eager to change subjects. Deep down, she was secretly wondering whether she would be sorted _anywhere at all_ and that perhaps they had mistaken her signs of magic for insanity. "Do you happen to know any spells?"

Draco grinned once more proudly and Hermione held her breath, watching him wide-eyed and still biting her lips in anticipation. The blonde boy noticed that her front teeth were slightly large, and that her cheeks were flushed. She was _so _weird, but he did not mind her. Not at all, actually.

Coughing for the sake of adding some drama, he held his wand elegantly and cried: "_Wingardium Leviosa_! The book atop Hermione's lap immediately floated mid-air for a couple of seconds before dropping down again with a thud. Draco looked flustered, his cheeks reddening and his shoulders dropping in disappointment.

"That was amazing!" she exclaimed, beaming at him. Draco glanced at her sideways, fists clenched as he wondered if she was mocking him, but her smile seemed sincere enough. "Don't worry! I'm not much better than you at that!"

"So you _do _know spells?" he raised his eyebrows, watching her intently. That cunning girl was just _fishing_! He felt his respect for her grow and another grin escaped his thin lips. Well, perhaps she too would be sorted into Slytherin.

Hermione gave him a naughty smirk and then exclaimed "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The book floated for a second longer and then dropped too. Draco reciprocated her smirk timidly and nodded in agreement.

"I suppose we will be both top of our class."

Hermione's fear that she was not going to be sorted anywhere vanished at once.

They stood in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the trip to Hogwarts, exchanging some words every once in a while about some passages of _Hogwarts, a History_, which Hermione had resumed reading as passionately as before. Draco had offered her some sweets, but she had politely declined his offer and muttered under her breath that her parents were not very fond of sugar. Draco had merely shrugged and resumed watching the mountains and the blue sky outside the Hogwarts Express. The boy had his face almost glued at the window as he realized that soon enough he would be likely flying on a broom and perhaps even playing Quidditch for real. That thought made him think of his friend Theo, with whom he had argued about Quidditch just before Hermione had stepped into that empty compartment. Merlin, hopefully he would get along with Hermione. Theo was nice enough, but he could be a prat when he wanted to.

The beautiful scenery kept changing as the day went by and suddenly the sky was very dark and his stomach was giving somersaults at the prospect of finally stepping into the castle. _This is _it, he thought with excitement. They changed quietly into their school robes and Draco noticed that Hermione was not doing anything to hide her anxiety anymore. Her hair looked wild and messy and her cheeks were so red that he could not help but watch her with some amusement as she talked to herself and pressed nonexistent wrinkles in her dark robes.

"There's nothing to worry about," he told her with a sincere smile.

"Are you sure, Draco?" she asked with a frown, swallowing hard.

"You'll do just fine, Hermione."

Somehow, Hermione managed to smile at him too after a deep breath, feeling a bit better at his encouragement. She decided she rather liked this Draco boy and hoped she was not sorted into Hufflepuff. Though she was sure Hufflepuff House was decent enough, she most certainly did not want Draco to think that she was a moron and stopped being _friends_ with her. Because they were friends, _weren't they_?

"Hermione, you never told me what your parents do for a living," he asked with wide eyes and a startled voice, chastising himself mentally for his lack of manners.

"They are dentists," she responded absentmindedly while pulling her trunk.

"What?" he inquired, brows furrowed in obvious confusion.

"Oh! I forgot that muggle occupations are different!" she rolled her eyes at her stupidity, slapping her forehead in the process. "My parents are muggle dentists, they tend to people's teeth!"

Draco was suddenly falling into an infinite abyss.

X

**A/N:** hi again. I am doing my annual re-read of the Harry Potter books and it's amazing how I always stumble upon something new every time I revisit them. But one thing never changes – how much of a Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy fan I am. So, I decided to give my take at this Dramione tale once again. Some of you may already recognize, but I am rewriting this piece and changing some things here and there. Please let me know your thoughts.


	2. The pain

"_There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."  
― Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral's Kiss_

"_Gryffindor_!"

The Sorting Hat had spent quite some time examining Hermione's mind before finally sorting her into Gryffindor. Surprised, she beamed and ran straight to the most cheerful table in the Great Hall, one filled with people who were clapping her enthusiastically as if they were really happy that she was one of theirs too. The brunette sat down and shook her head to focus on the remainder of the Sorting Ceremony, trying to contain the anxiety for being sorted into the House of the brave, courageous and determined. She was not sure whether she could live up to that, but perhaps… Well, there had to be a perfectly logical explanation for that after all, the Sorting Hat existed _for ages_.

As Professor McGonagall called _Greengrass, Daphne!_, Hermione held her face on her hands and glanced at the remaining students. Her amber eyes fell on Draco, who was unsuccessfully trying to conceal his nervousness by shifting his weight from one foot to the other, but that made her even more distressed.

Just after Hermione had mentioned her parents, Draco had simply stopped talking and had ignored the girl for the rest of the trip. He had stormed off the compartment briskly before she could thank him for keeping her company and had left her alone during the boat ride to the entrance of the castle. _What have I done_?, she wondered, trying to contain a surge of panic and the small voice in the back of her head that kept whispering that she would never have any friends.

Draco, on the other hand, was doing his best not to glance at the Gryffindor table. Hermione had lied to him. She had deliberately hidden her heritage and had pretended to be a clever, kind girl. For a few stupid moments, he had felt comfortable around her and believed that her intentions were genuine, that she really meant to be friends with him, without any ulterior motives or hidden excuses – unlike most of the children around him. In the end, however, she was nothing but a muggleborn, one of those _freaks_, one of those _nasty little creatures_ that his Father had taught him to loathe and keep away. _They are not one of us, Draco, and they never will be one of us. They are filth and you ought to keep your distance from them. Malfoys do not condone those aberrations,_ his Father had hissed over and over again, his grey eyes gleaming maliciously while little Draco just stared at him – pale-faced and quivering.

The boy could look past Gryffindor. He could not, _would not_ look past what she was.

Draco could sense his insides boiling with anger and frustration as the image of that bucktoothed, bushy haired witch flashed in front of his eyes. _Liar_! Thankfully, before he could make his disgust even more obvious, the Sorting Hat finally shrieked his name. With fists clenched, he walked gingerly to the stool and sat down, ignoring her apprehensive gaze.

"Oh, the Malfoy boy. Are you sure you wish to follow your Father's steps? I see a great desire to prove yourself and a desperate yearning for friendship and greatness. I see ambition and I see cleverness. I also see a fierce determination to challenge whatever plans were devised for you. You could do that. You know you could. You could have power and _much more_," the Sorting Hat hissed atop his head.

"Slytherin," he thought, dryly, hoping that no one could hear what that stupid Hat was telling him. It made his insides boil even harder that that dumb object thought it could read him so openly. That day was turning up to be one of the worst of his life.

"Well, if you have already made up your mind… _Slytherin_!" the Hat squealed.

Draco leaped off the stool and ran straight to the Slytherin table under the green and silver flags. His fellow students clapped and whistled as he joined them and Draco felt a wave of relief wash over him. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle made room and he grinned before taking the seat between their mountain-size figures. Draco thought they were plain thick and stupid, but they were both from well-respected pureblood families and that was exactly what he needed right now. Two useless friends were better than no friends at all, especially after being completely ignored by Saint Potter just moments before. _And_ _pureblood_ useless friends were certainly much better than… _that_.

Hermione kept stretching her neck to steal some glances at the Slytherin table to get Draco's attention so that she could congratulate him for being sorted into the House of the cunning, ambitious, creative and resourceful. It was evident that he was ecstatic for not ending up in Hufflepuff and she could see even from a distance the way his grey eyes were sparkling with joy. Finally, after some strangled minutes and some soreness in her neck, Draco looked at her direction. However, instead of returning her kind smile as he had done in the Hogwarts Express, he scowled disdainfully and turned his face so quickly that it was like he had just spotted a nasty insect.

Her heart sunk in her chest immediately and her eyes started burning painfully, the kind smile melting off her face. She swallowed a big lump on her throat and looked up to the enchanted ceiling, begging silently _don't cry, don't cry, don't cry_! Why did Draco suddenly hate her so hard? Had she hurt his feelings? How? She had come to Hogwarts to learn magic and make friends, and Draco had been the first child _in years_ to treat her with kindness and respect. Now, however, he was acting as though nothing had ever happened. Suddenly, the Great Hall was no longer warm and happy, but a cold and depressing place that made Hermione think immediately of her old muggle school with those sneering classmates that called her an ugly weirdo and a freak.

"Why do you keep looking at the Slytherin table?" a ginger Prefect named Percy Weasley asked her all of a sudden, and Hermione did her best to hide her eyes from him.

"I think I saw someone I know," she answered, quietly, sniffing.

"That is highly unlikely. You are a muggleborn, aren't you?" he asked with an aura of superiority, thankfully too focused on showing off his knowledge to care for Hermione's gloomy figure. She nodded. "Very well, Slytherin students loathe anyone who is not a pureblood, that is, anyone that does not descend from traditional wizard families. And of course, they also loathe anyone who associates with them and that would be _us_. Forget about them, Granger, there are no good wizards there. You are better off without those snakes."

Hermione nodded once more and shrank in her settee, ignoring completely the sorting of that Harry Potter boy, who was received by the Gryffindor table with a standing ovation. She could not care less that the Boy Who Lived was going to be her classmate. The only thing she felt deep in her heart was _pain_ for once again losing a friend before even making one – and just because she happened to be who she was.

X

**A/N: **first of all, thanks to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed the first chapter. Thank you especially to Jessie Q, TeachMeToFly, Leena F, JJ 003, Guest and cherinq! I am very happy that you enjoyed that. Second of all, this is a Dramione story that will follow Draco and Hermione from their first year on. Though most of canon will be preserved, I will not get into too much detail of Harry's adventures; this is focused on Draco and Hermione's POV and their own particular stories. Anyway, I hope you like this second chapter. Please let me know your thoughts!


	3. The cry

"_That is just the way with some people. They get down on a thing when they don't know nothing about it." ― Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_

X

Weeks went by and Draco and Hermione did not interact all – not even for the briefest of seconds. In the classes that they shared, they acted as if their conversation in the train had never happened. But even in her resolution to keep her distance from Draco, Hermione could not help but notice how much he loathed Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

Whenever there was an opportunity (meaning whenever they crossed paths, meaning _every day_), Draco mocked the Weasley family by reminding the ginger, freckled boy of how poor they were. And then, of course, whenever Harry defended his friend, Draco accused him of relishing his celebrity fame. The Slytherin boy seemed to absolute _hate _those two for what Hermione suspected was no reason at all. He had even challenged them to a Midnight Wizard's Duel which turned out to be just a setup. Weren't for Hermione nagging and warning the pair that Filch was around, the caretaker would have caught all of them. In the end, she had saved Harry and Ron and then bumped into a three-headed dog on their way out.

Even though it had led her into wondering why someone would keep a creature like that in a castle full of children, the prospect of being expelled seemed far worse than being killed.

And still, the boys had not even thanked her.

She knew she was tagging along with Harry and Ron just for the sake of having some company, but Hermione had never felt so alone and miserable in her entire life. The ginger boy clearly disliked her whereas the dark-haired one did not want to argue with his best friend, which meant that Hermione was always left behind. None of the other Gryffindor girls – Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown – seemed very fond of her either, and they spent most of their time gossiping and inspecting Hermione from head to toe as if examining her worthiness of their secrets. Hermione knew better than to mention that loneliness to her parents in the letters she sent them every week; they obviously thought she was finally in her element. And indeed, she was _supposed_ to be.

In the end, all she had left was study day and night hoping to accomplish at least half of her original plans: _learn_.

"Stop! Stop! You're going to take someone's eye out!" Hermione argued with an impatient huff, holding Ron's forearm. He was attempting to levitate a feather and obviously failing at the process. "Besides, you're saying it wrong. It's _Leviosa_, not _Leviosar_!"

"You do it then if you're so clever!" Ron retorted with bitterness, pulling his arm back hastily as his ears went as red as his hair. Hermione tried to contain the urge to roll her amber eyes at the boy; he could be very immature when he wanted to.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" the girl cried, confidently. The feather immediately floated some inches above her head and stood still as Hermione grinned at Professor Flitwick.

"Look here, everyone, Miss Granger's done it! Splendid job!" the minuscule teacher shrieked and then clapped eagerly while Hermione's eyes lit up in obvious excitement. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione grinned proudly at Ron, who looked like he had just swallowed a frog, and then ignored the way her stomach dropped as she remembered the last time she had performed that spell. She sighed and shook her head to clear her thoughts – it would do no good to dwell in those ridiculous memories.

"_It's Leviosa, not Leviosar! _She's a nightmare, honestly! No wonder she hasn't got any friends," Ron was saying in a loud and annoyed voice as they walked across the courtyard after class.

"I think she heard you," Harry muttered and pointed to Hermione, who walked past them with glistening eyes and plummeted shoulders.

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to contain that blazing feeling in her eyes, a feeling that she quite honestly was already too familiar with. Ron had just voiced something she had thought all along, but it had hurt very deeply all the same. She had not meant to come across as a bossy know-it-all. She just wanted to help. Yes, she was not exactly very fond of the ginger boy, not only because of his lack of manners, but also because of his obnoxious behavior around her. However, he was her classmate, her Housemate, and all she wanted was just to have _friends_ and move past that loneliness she had felt her entire life. She just wanted to move past that feeling that she was a freak and someone who would _always _be frowned upon – for just _being_, for just _existing_. Would that be possible? Would she have any friends some day? Would they stop _judging_ her before getting a chance to actually _know _her?

Perhaps in her naivety, she had assumed that the Wizarding World would not care about who she was as long as she had skill, magical abilities, things that she was thriving so hard to achieve. Even so, it made no difference. They _always_ and _only_ cared about who she was – whether it were her upbringing or her behavior. Muggle _people_, wizard _people_… They were just _people_ – and people would _always_ be like that. Prejudiced, judgmental, bigoted. The only difference was that she would now have to spend seven years in their company, perhaps having to excel even more than everyone else just to prove that she too belonged in their world.

Her mind instantly traveled back to Draco Malfoy and another set of tears streamed down her face.

She only stopped roaming around when she realized that her feet had taken her straight to the library and that she was now staring at Madam Pince's furrowed brows and pressed lips. Of course her brain would have taken her to the one place that felt like home. Merlin, she was so predictable…

"Hello," she greeted the librarian with a small voice, and the witch merely stared back with a slight grimace, _as per usual_. Well, at least there was someone in Hogwarts who always treated everyone just the same.

Figuring it out that it was better to enjoy the opportunity now that she was there, Hermione walked straight to the back of the library and tried to find a book that would allow her to add a couple of inches to her History of Magic essay. However, when her eyes finally found what she was looking for, Hermione bumped into the one person she least wanted to see in that moment: Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked immediately with a sneer, pulling his hand away hastily from the book both of them were reaching out to. His reaction reminded her of Ron's behavior earlier that day.

"Looking for a book," she answered in a clipped tone, ignoring his scowl and the way her heart sunk at having another person act as though she was infected.

Without meaning to, Draco noticed that her bright amber eyes looked oddly bloodshot and swollen. As his grey eyes involuntarily scanned the rest of her face, he took sight of her damp cheeks and reddish nose. With a small pang to his stomach that he did not understand, he realized that she had been crying. For some reason unbeknownst to himself, no matter how hard he wanted to hate Hermione Granger in that very moment and push her away, he felt something like a mix of worry and pity. Unless he was terribly wrong, that had Potter and Weasley's doing.

He had just found another reason to loathe that brainless duo even more.

"Why are you crying, Granger?" he questioned, folding his arms and giving her a blank and unreadable stare.

"I wasn't," she lied, sniffing and turning her head to the side so that Draco could not see the other set of tears that was threatening to stream down her face. His sympathy wavered at her lie and then anger started to rush through his brain.

"You're a big fat liar. First, you lied about who you were, and now you're doing it again," he retorted, coldly, fists clenched to his side.

"I did not lie about who I was!" she snapped back, seething and turning back again to glare at the boy. "Is this about my being a muggleborn? I did not lie about that! You told me your name and I told you mine! We talked! How was I supposed to know you'd care about my heritage? And why does it make any difference to you?" she completed in a hissed tone, her chest going up and down after her outburst.

"It just does! You don't understand!" the Slytherin boy replied, his pale cheeks reddening slightly now.

"I thought we were going to be friends, Draco," she murmured, shedding a lone tear and feeling her heart ache with those words. "I thought that I'd have someone to call my friend for once in my life."

"You've thought it wrong. I don't want anything with the likes of you, Granger!"

Draco stormed off the library and left Hermione behind. He heard her sobs, but left her all the same. Why couldn't she just get it? Why couldn't she just understand? She was a muggleborn, she came from an inferior family, she came from people who were not entitled to their magic! They couldn't be acquaintances, they couldn't be friends, they were not even supposed to have chatted in that bloody train! He hated Hermione Granger with that big bucktoothed smile, that damned bushy head, those ridiculous amber eyes and that absurd cleverness!

"Bugger," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes once he got to the Slytherin dungeons and remembering the weeping girl he had just left behind. He could not, _would not_ admit how terrible he felt for leaving her behind and acting probably just like those two morons he loathed so much.

He sat down, closed his eyes and basked in the welcoming silence of the Common Hall, thankful that none of his classmates were there. Quietly, his thoughts started betraying his resolution. Draco could not explain why, but there was something about that girl. Something genuine and earnest that made Draco feel so incredibly confused. Deep down, he wanted to be her friend, he wanted to have clever conversations with her, he wanted to be able to befriend someone who sincerely wanted his friendship back – not because they knew his family or because of their upbringing or because they belonged in the same House – but _just because_. Why did she have to be who she was, then?

He heard the familiar sound of Nott's voice at the back of his mind and opened his eyes abruptly to find Nott and Zabini entering the Common Room, chatting excitedly about Quidditch. His mind took another turn as he got to his feet and decided to finish his History of Magic homework. He… he would ignore _her_, he would make sure that she knew her place and he would forget that those stolen hours in that bloody train had affected him so hard. He _had to_.

Hours after that altercation, Draco was dining quietly at the Hallowe'en Feast, ignoring the way Crabbe and Goyle were stuffing their mouths with everything they could put their hands on, and how Blaise and Theo kept chatting excitedly about Quidditch without him. However, his silent meal was disturbed by Professor Quirrell's horrified screams as he entered the Great Hall.

"TROLL! IN THE DUNGEONS!"

Everyone went quiet immediately and an eerie atmosphere ensued as if someone had just dropped dead.

"Thought you ought to know," the Professor managed to blurt out before passing out. As if to make everything even spookier, a nasty thunder roared outside. All of the students shouted, terrified, dropping their forks and plates and starting to saunter for the exit.

"SILENCE!" Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, roared, his voice even louder than the thunder. "Everyone will please, not panic. Now, Prefects will lead their houses back to the dormitories. Teachers will follow me into the dungeons."

Draco's gaze involuntarily went straight to the Gryffindor table and he realized in utter terror that Hermione was not there. He tried to find her mane of bushy brown hair to no avail, swallowing harder and harder as the seconds went by. _Maybe she decided to sit away from those thickheads_, he tried to reason pathetically with his brain, but his face was growing paler by the second. He ignored the way Crabbe and Goyle kept insisting that they left and instead, returned his gaze to Potty and the Weasel. As soon as his grey eyes landed on their horrorstricken figures, he saw the Boy-Who-Unfortunately-Lived mouth a single word to his sidekick: _Hermione_.

Draco gulped. _What have I done_?

X

**A/N:** once again, thank you everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed this piece. Thanks Guest, Leena F, pgoodirichbogs, TeachMeToFly, Guest, JJ 003 and AlwaysLastToKnow for your kind and lovely words. Yes, it is sad Draco discarded Hermione off so quickly, but then again, he's an eleven year-old who was raised to despise the likes of her. As you can see, though, he's not so sure about that and that's precisely the conflict I intend to explore as they progress through their years in Hogwarts. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please let me know your thoughts.


	4. The flame

"_Nothing is as obnoxious as other people's luck." ―F. Scott Fitzgerald_

X

"Why are you mashing your mashed potatoes? It's already mashed enough, isn't it?" a dark-skinned Slytherin boy named Blaise Zabini asked with raised eyebrows. Following Draco's gaze, he added, "I heard that those three faced that troll by themselves after Granger went after it on her own. In the end, they even got themselves some points for their _bravery_," he narrated with a grimace, jaw clenched in obvious annoyance. "If we'd done that, we would've gotten ourselves detentions until the end of the year."

"Evidently, Blaise. No one gives a damn about us 'cause we're the bad guys," Theodore Nott snickered, narrowing his dark eyes as he watched the Gryffindor trio. "Snape would only treat us nice if we awarded him an Order of Merlin."

"An Order of Merlin _First Class, _you mean," Blaise amended and Theo nodded with a frown. "What do you think, Draco?" and they both stared at the blonde boy, who was still acting as though his mashed potatoes had just announced that Quidditch had been canceled forever.

Draco Malfoy was glaring at the Gryffindor table where Granger, Potter and Weasley were chatting excitedly and laughing at some stupid joke. It seemed as if they were getting along better than ever and the brunette looked much cheerier than the day before. Draco swallowed the mashed potatoes with a scowl and tasted nothing but bitterness. Watching that scene unfold made him sense an unprecedented feeling, but he would turn himself into a slug before admitting to what was making his stomach churn.

"Shame that troll couldn't finish the job," Draco hissed, coolly, making Crabbe and Goyle laugh dumbly whereas Theo just rolled his eyes and ate the rest of his lunch unaware of the way Zabini kept his eyes fixed on him, watching how his Housemate kept glancing at a certain Gryffindor girl every thirty seconds.

Hermione was oblivious to Draco's annoyed glares. There, having lunch with Harry and Ron after they had saved her from that terrible creature, she felt perfectly happy for the first time in Hogwarts. Maybe School was going to become _home_ from now on.

"Blimey, Hermione, that essay is at least ten inches larger than what Professor Binns asked!" Ron stated with disbelief, his expression clearly startled at the girl's dedication.

Hermione merely smiled and chastised both of the boys for wanting to copy her homework. Well, she guessed that there were still some things you couldn't agree with even when you liked each other.

Once again, it took weeks until Draco and Hermione crossed paths again. Both of them were too busy with their timetables to remember their altercations, but that did not stop Draco from irritating Hermione and her friends whenever there was an opportunity. He and his brawny friends Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have made their life missions to harass Harry about his celebrity status and Ron about the size of his family being inversely proportional to their wealth. For some unknown reason, Hermione was labelled merely as the bushy-haired know-it-all and she had to admit she had faced worse in muggle school.

In those weeks, every time the Gryffindor girl caught sight of Draco, he always had a sneer plastered to his pointed face as he waltzed around the castle as though he owned the place. She was beginning to wonder whether she had imagined his smiles because it seemed as though Draco Malfoy was incapable of doing something so nice. As a result, Hermione was beginning to forget that they had almost become _acquaintances _(she had decided to refrain from using the word _friend_ to talk about Draco). That is, until that very night. And the situation could not be more unpleasant: they were both serving detentions at the Forbidden Forest.

Professor McGonagall had punished Draco after he had reported that Potter and his friends were trafficking a baby dragon with the aid of the gamekeeper Rubeus Hagrid. Nonetheless, since he had been out of bed past curfew and not able to prove his accusations, he had lost fifty points to Slytherin and gotten himself a detention. Hours later, however, he finally got his vengeance: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom (in a dimwitted attempt to protect his friends) were caught by the lurking caretaker Argus Filch. Much to Draco's rejoice, they had fifty points _each_, heard McGonagall's proverbial verb and gotten themselves detentions. The Slytherin boy would have been even more ecstatic if Ronald Weasley had been there as well, but the ginger tumor was still at the Hospital Wing thanks to a nasty dragon bite courtesy of the very dragon Hagrid had been trafficking.

Which was why Draco, Hermione, Harry and Neville saw themselves together in front of Hagrid's hut as they waited to serve their detentions in a place that Draco had hoped to stay as far away as possible.

"I'm not going into that Forest!" Draco stammered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his grey eyes scanned the dark edges of the trees. It was so cold and dark outside that he wondered why they couldn't just tell him to write some lines inside the safety of the castle.

"If I didn't know you any better, Malfoy, I'd say you're scared," Potter piped in with a scornful look. Trust Potter to voice the obvious.

"There are werewolves there," he clarified, breathlessly, dismissing completely the drawled tone he normally used to address Potter. His pale complexion was almost shining under the moonlight as he grew whiter and whiter by the second. "Wait till my Father hears about this!"

"He'll tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts!" Hagrid growled with annoyance, and Draco almost jumped some inches at the booming sound of the gamekeeper's voice. Of course that oaf was mad at him; he had come forward and told McGonagall about his dragon, an illegal and dangerous creature that Hagrid had been nursing as if it was a puppy. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

Then Hagrid embarked on an explanation about what they were going to do in the Forest, which did absolutely nothing to calm Draco down. There was something attacking unicorns in the Forest and the boy knew for a fact that they would be facing a grave danger if they were to deal with that. Even though he was not particularly fond of magical creatures, only something very evil would harm a unicorn. Ollivander had told him so when he had gotten his wand, whose core contained a unicorn hair. Swallowing hard, he refocused his attention on the gamekeeper's words, still hoping that the man decided to venture himself alone in that Forest and allowed him to return to the comfort of the Slytherin dungeons.

"So me, Harry an' Neville go one way an' Draco an' Hermione'll go the other."

"If it's just the two of us, then I want Fang," Draco grunted, watching Fang's long teeth. He was so freaked out by the prospect of getting near that Forest that he did not even have it in him to protest his pairing with… _her_.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid, shuddering and looking like he could not care less about Draco's concern. "Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right. An' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks and we'll all come an' find yeh – so, be careful – let's go."

As Hagrid went to one side with Harry and Neville, Hermione started walking towards the opposite direction without any warning. Draco followed close on her heels. He had Fang by his side and looked on the brink of passing out. And although a Gryffindor, Hermione had to admit that the Forbidden Forest was her least favorite place in Hogwarts (though the Quidditch pitch was though competition too) and she had trouble understanding why a place named _Forbidden_ had been selected as a viable option to serve detentions, especially if there was something there hurting unicorns. She absolutely loved magic, but there were some _elements_ about the wizarding world that she had a hard time adapting to. That was definitely one of those. Perhaps Dumbledore did not care at all about following his own rules… or perhaps he was simply too eccentric to bother coming up with anything logical.

They walked in silence for at least twenty minutes, their wands barely illuminating their way as they got deeper and deeper into the woods. Both of them kept wondering how they had managed to end up _there_ and _together_, nonetheless. Everything was dead quiet save from their footsteps and Fang's heavy breathing. The treetops were so close together and the forest was so dense that a simple _Lumos _did not make any difference. Frustrated that she had not thought about that earlier, Hermione took a small jar she carried inside her robes and conjured those bluebell flames that she was so fond of. Beside her, she noticed the way Draco held his breath and watched the flames with amazement. With a small smile to herself, but still adamant on keeping her distance from the boy, she led the way with newfound determination.

"Bloody detention," Draco muttered, dryly, kicking a rock in obvious anger.

"It's all your fault. If you hadn't decided to act like a little spy and then tattle on us to Professor McGonagall, none of us would have been punished!" Hermione replied fervently, her back turned to Malfoy. _He's such a prat_!

"I didn't ask your opinion, Granger."

"So quit whining and do something useful for a change."

"There's _nothing_ to do. I don't know if you've realized with that big brain of yours, but that oaf wouldn't've sent us to this side and take those two to the other if he thought that the unicorn was around here," he scoffed, his tone full of sarcasm.

"Don't call Hagrid an oaf!"

"_Fine_, but stop acting as if anything about this makes any sense! We should go back and wait."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth but could not find anything to argue with him. He was obviously right. Hermione turned on the spot to face him, bluebell flames in hand. Under the blueish light, she allowed her eyes to settle on his quivering figure and give him a good look for the first time in _months_. He looked the same: platinum blonde hair meticulously fixed with hair gel, pointed face, aristocratic features, grey eyes and… _no sneer_. Draco kept glancing to every side every second, shifting his weight and gulping. If that was not enough of an indication, the way he was gripping tight to Fang's leash as life depended on it was enough for her to realize that we had indeed scared beyond measure.

She could feel her disappointment melt off and be replaced by empathy.

"Come on, take the jar. I'll take Fang," Hermione told him kindly, giving him the jar inside which the bluebell flames danced. Draco watched her hand for over a minute, brows furrowed, reluctant in accepting that offer. A million things raced through his mind in that minute: their conversation, her kindness, her magical skills, her big amber doe eyes, their bickering, his hatred, his convictions, his beliefs, the darkness and the coldness of the Forbidden Forest, his trembling hands, his fear.

That was too much for an eleven-year old boy to think about. Especially one that happened to be in the middle of the woods where dangerous creatures lurked in the shadows! His internal debacle seemed far from a happy ending, so his self-preservation instincts spoke louder and he took the jar with an imperceptible nod. And that was it. That was only it. Self-preservation. _Slytherin_.

"Thanks," mumbled Draco against his will, giving her the dog and deciding that there would be another time to overthink that decision.

The two turned on their heels and headed back to Hagrid's hut in a comfortable silence, which reminded Hermione of the day she had met Draco. However, she did not dare start any conversation considering how hurtful his words had been some weeks ago and her resolution to pretend that nothing had ever happened. Draco had a bitter look in his eyes as he stared at the bluebell flames and Hermione knew that is was because he had accepted her help unwillingly. Deep down, Draco wanted to ask how she had done that and perhaps praise her magical abilities. But that was impossible; he ought to keep away from the girl. _Being_ in her company was already against his initial plans. _Enjoying_ it… that was abominable.

They were standing in silence in front of Hagrid's hut for some minutes now when the gamekeeper fast approached with a horrified expression in his bearded face. Neville and Harry came just behind, the latter's face stricken with panic. Hermione ran for the green-eyed wizard, Fang on her heels, and asked him what had happened. Her voice sounded more worried than ever. Draco heard something like "I was attacked", "my scar" and "the centaur saved my life". Bloody Potter and his heroic tales! Was he capable of doing anything without causing any commotion?

"Merlin!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her arms around Potter and hugging him tightly. "I'm glad you're all safe! Did you find out who attacked the unicorn?"

But Draco was no longer paying attention to that conversation. Watching the pair with a scowl and thinking that he had had enough of those stupid chitchats, he threw the glass jar on the ground and stomped his way off to the castle without looking back. That sensation he had felt while watching Hermione with _her friends_ after the troll episode came back steadfast and this time, he did nothing to set it aside. He knew fairly well what it was: _jealousy._

If he had looked back, Draco would have seen a pair of big amber eyes following him with a lot of worry until he disappeared from sight.

X

**A/N: **once again, thanks to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed this story. Shout out to TeachMeTo Fly, AlwaysLastToKnow, Leena F and Guest! Hope you're enjoying where it's going. Draco and Hermione's interactions are limited for the time being as they're children and not exactly in a position to understand thoroughly what they're facing. Also, as you can see, I'll change up things a little bit, though following the books too. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter and share your thoughts with me. Oh, by the way, Draco did not save Hermione from the troll; part of his journey involves him dealing with Hermione's friendship with his nemesis and also coming to terms with his own feelings about her.


	5. The lecture

"_Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilised by education: they grow there, firm as weeds among stones." ― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre_

X

"Tell me about your grades, son."

It was Draco's first day back at Malfoy Manor, a day he was supposed to cherish but had been dreading for the past few days. He missed strolling through its enormous gardens and sitting beside the pool without any preoccupations meandering through his mind. He missed wandering around the spacious corridors and trying to glance at some small detail that he might have overlooked in all those years. He missed exploring their colossal library, counting the books he had already read and devouring the ones he had not. But, most of all, he missed sitting by the greenhouse as his Mother gardened with a peaceful expression in her otherwise unflappable face, telling him stories about her time in Hogwarts or the constellations and stars that her family was named after – well, except for her, of course. In that moment, however, he saw himself in the middle of the drawing room right in front of his Father, who was peering at him with an expression that he was all too familiar with.

_Contempt_.

Thus the reason he had been dreading that very moment for the past few days.

According to many people, Draco was the spitting image of Lucius Malfoy. Both of them had platinum blonde hair – though Lucius's were much longer than his son's – and grey eyes – though Lucius's were much cooler than his son's. Besides, both of them had the same pointed and aristocratic features that had always preceded the Malfoy bloodline, as proved by the numerous paintings of their ancestors that adorned the walls around the Manor. Intimately, Draco _hated _that comparison and the way Lucius was_ yet again_ looking down at him was exactly why.

"They are excellent," he answered shortly and rather vaguely, handing a small scroll of parchment to the wizard. There was a slight tremble to his hand and a pressing feeling at the pit of his stomach.

Having already anticipated that conversation for the past week, he knew that it was not going to end up well. He had just hoped that his Father would decide to save it to a later time. He was so worried, so terrified, that he did not even have it in him to protest the way Gryffindor had beat Slytherin for the House Cup Championship thanks to Dumbledore playing favorites. It made no difference, not when his situation was far worse than that.

The reason for his nervousness was quite simple: he was the best student in his Slytherin class. But he was not _the best _student out of _all_ first year students. That place happened to be occupied by the very antithesis of what his Father considered the best. A muggleborn. And a lionhearted Gryffindor at that.

Opening that scroll to see the results was not needed – not when everyone just knew that Hermione Granger was the brightest witch of her age. Furthermore, Draco had an inkling suspicion that his Father was aware of that, especially as part of the Board of School Governors which meant he could interfere in Hogwarts freely. From the moment he had seen Lucius at the train station, it was obvious that something was amiss. Perhaps it was the slight curve to Lucius's pursed lips as he called his son's name and greeted him emotionlessly. Or perhaps it was the small twitch in his cold grey eyes as he scanned the train station obviously looking for someone – he doubted it was only Potter and he had never given a damn about the Weasleys.

When Draco had stepped into the Hogwarts Express, many ideas had come to mind as to how to avoid that appalling situation. However, as his Father escorted him back home, the ideas were nowhere to be seen.

Now, sitting in the drawing room, all he could do was brace himself for the worst.

Lucius smiled – a smile that did not extend to his grey eyes, which were still glued at his son condescendingly, coldly. It was like he could smell his son's anxiety and actually relish in that feeling just so he could _once again _teach him a lesson about _failure_. As he untied the knot of the parchment scroll slowly, calculatingly, Draco kept watching him with something close to desperation. _Maybe_, just _maybe_ it would be different this time. _Please, let it be different this time… Please, please, please!_

The wizard had never been Father of the Year, he had never been warm and caring like Narcissa Malfoy, but he had always been a great influence on Draco's life all the same. His expectations had pushed Draco to do his best to excel at _everything_ he did. He was always trying to live up to the plans that Lucius had laid out for him from his birth. Everything Draco had always wanted was his Father's approval and pride.

It was never enough. _Never_. Once again, Draco was a failure.

Lucius Malfoy had never punished Draco physically – he seemed to abhor that idea and deem it as appropriate to lesser people. Nonetheless, physicality was not needed, not when his vicious words were harsher, crueler and much, much more effective than that.

Draco remembered his failures – every single one of them. Falling off a broom for the first time. Failing to improve his handwriting. Getting lost in Paris. Getting lost at the Diagon Alley. Climbing on a tree. Asking for a puppy. Trying to befriend the house elves. Sticking his finger inside a chocolate batter. Crying as his parents traveled to Italy without him. Crying when Theo missed his eight-year birthday. Crying after losing his first tooth. Crying after falling off a tree and breaking his elbow. Crying after hurting his knee and earning a nasty scar there. Splashing sauce on his lap as they dined in a fancy restaurant. Hugging his Father in front of his friends – twice. Talking back to his Father. Begging his Father to allow him to go to the Ministry of Magic.

Draco remembered exactly what his Father had told him every single time.

"_This will never happen again. Do you understand me, son?"_

And Draco remembered his tone, his impenetrable gaze, his contempt.

Embarrassment. Shame. Weakness. Stupidity. Failure.

"_Draco, my love, forgive your Father. He does not know any better."_

"_I hate him, Mother, I hate him," he had cried that last time through gritted teeth, hugging her tightly and burying his head on the crook of her neck. There was something horrible that he could not understand boiling inside his chest and his face was burning hard as he tried to control himself._

"_But you don't, my son. You are no embarrassment. You are no shame. You are not weak, or stupid or a failure. You are my beloved and precious son. Your Father just wants you to be like him."_

"_How can you defend him? How can you not hate him, Mother?" he had snapped back, angrily._

"_Because he gave me what I treasure the most in this world. You. As long as we are together, Draco, I will protect and love you. As long as we are together, no one can ever harm you. One day… one day things will get better. I assure you. I promise you."_

Draco suspected that that day was still far away and that his Mother was obviously keeping a lot to herself as it was neither time nor place for him to know the true meaning of her words. The Slytherin boy also knew that his Mother was right: he did not hate his Father. He _loved_ him. He looked up to him. He was willing to do his best to please his Father and be worthy of his love and admiration.

But yet again, he had failed. This time was probably the biggest failure of his life.

"My, my, what is this?" Lucius asked in a drawled tone, raising a blonde eyebrow in a seemingly inoffensive way.

"W-what?" Draco stuttered as anxiety flushed through his bloodstream.

"_Second_ best grades in your class. _Second _best student in your class," said the wizard and every word was so venomous that they felt like a punch straight to his son's guts. "I thought you had mentioned in your letters that you were top of the class? Obviously you forgot to mention that you were _only _top of _Slytherin_ class. Or maybe you deemed it unimportant."

Draco gulped. He had hoped so goddamn hard that Lucius would overlook that and accept just this one time that Draco had done his best to excel at Hogwarts. But to Lucius, being the best Slytherin student meant nothing. He had to be _the best_. And Draco had failed. Again.

Embarrassment. Shame. Weakness. Stupidity. Failure.

"Who is it?" Lucius inquired in an even tone as he rolled the parchment in an almost casual way, but Draco knew him far too well to realize that this was when his Father was at his most viciousness.

"A Gryffindor girl," he mumbled, feeling his eyes burn with fear and his breath falter.

"And what is the name of this _Gryffindor girl_?" he replied, coldly.

"Hermione Granger."

Lucius watched his son silently and Draco felt a wave of coldness shiver down his spine. The man flared his nostrils dangerously and smiled at Draco as if trying his best to keep his composure. The effect was horrifying: his features twisted so darkly that the boy could not help but step back, legs shaking.

"Granger, Granger…" he clicked his tongue, dramatically, pretending that he did not know exactly where that surname came from. "Never heard of that name. Certainly she does not come from any family we know."

"She's, erm, she's a muggleborn," Draco replied, breathlessly.

He counted to ten as a deafening silence ensued.

"Let me get this straight," he began, placing the scroll atop a coffee table, his cold grey eyes never once leaving Draco's face and his voice laced with coldness. "A _mudblood_ is top of the class. A Gryffindor _mudblood_ got better grades than _you_. A creature that had _never_ had any contact with magic up until this year and most likely a friend of Harry Potter beat you at school. Is that what happened, Draco?"

Draco, head hanging down, just nodded and squeezed his eyes to stop the scorching feeling in his eyes.

"I see that all time and money invested in _you_ were clearly in vain," he hissed, dryly. "Providing you with the best tutors throughout your whole life was just a waste."

"Father…" Draco tried to reason with him, his eyes burning with the tears he was so desperately trying to contain so that he would not make things even worse.

"Enough," Lucius said in a low and threatening whisper, shutting his son up immediately. "I will say this only once, Draco, so I suggest you pay more attention to me than you clearly did at that school. These creatures, these _mudbloods_, they are not worth of their magical skills. You should know that by now. Allowing them to live amongst us, true wizards, is ludicrous. Allowing them to be better than us is inconceivable. Times have unfortunately changed and we are no longer entitled to voice this truth freely. But perhaps the good old times are coming back and justice will be done. And when justice is done, these creatures like this Hermione Granger will no longer be around us and they will know exactly where they belong. _Mudbloods_, blood traitors and muggle lovers. All of them will face justice – and they will face it _soon_. So understand this once and for all, Draco. We are Malfoy men. We do not take second place. We do not allow scum to be better than us. You will return to that school and fix that. _This will never happen again. Do you understand me, son_?"

"Yes, Father."

What Draco really wanted to say never left his mouth. He was a coward and a failure, and once again, he would do exactly what Lucius had told him to do.

X

**A/N:** hey there. Once again, thanks a lot to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed this story, especially TeachMeToFly, JJ 003, Leena F, AlwaysLastToKnow, Guest and foreverathogwarts. I really hope you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am! And yes, sometimes I too forget they are very young, so there's some toning down of their emotions. This chapter intends to give you a glimpse on Draco's life and the conflict that he is living when it comes to Hermione, and this will play a big role at how he's going to deal with his feelings towards her. What are your thoughts on that? Please let me know them!


	6. The story

"_By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest." ― Confucius_

X

It was a hot summer day in the London suburbs where Hermione and her family lived in a comfortable two-story house. The Grangers usually traveled to somewhere in France every summer as that was Mrs. Granger's favorite place in the entire world. However, considering that was the first year Hermione had spent away from them, they had chosen to stay in London and enjoy her company doing mundane stuff.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were both dentists who had an office down that same neighborhood. Hermione had always been an independent and clever girl, far more mature than the children of the same age. In different circumstances, that would mean that they would get to spend their days working with no concerns at all while Hermione spent her day at school. But the unexplainable events that she had gotten herself into had made reality much different.

Everything had started the first time the baby girl had been placed on a highchair for lunch. Mrs. Granger had just turned around to grab a spoon, and when she had turned back, her eyes found Hermione levitating the bowl of baby food and clapping excitedly. The woman blinked at least twenty times, dumbfounded, before finally regaining her voice and her senses and yelling for her husband. When Mr. Granger had finally gotten downstairs to meet his hysterical wife, he found himself gaping not only at a flying bowl, but also at a spoon orbiting it like a small satellite. They both sat down on the floor, hands clutched firmly as they stared at the laughing eighteen-month old girl without believing their own eyes. The next episodes had made that one seem particularly ordinary.

Hermione had blown three glasses one time she had gotten mad at her lunch, grown her hair back just after coming back from the hairdresser, climbed a twenty-foot tall tree and then landed flawlessly on the ground when she was four years old, not to mention that one time she had turned white a black cat. Her parents had no idea how to deal with those circumstances, neither did they have the guts to share their concerns with the other parents. It had gotten even more out of hand when Hermione started having bouts at school. One time, she had glued the hands of a classmate who had called her bucktoothed; another time, she had tied the braids of a small girl to a doorknob because the girl had called her a weirdo – and she had done that without even touching the girl. Her classmates called her a freak not only because of her know-it-all behavior but also and mainly because she was always involved in abnormal, otherworldly events.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger had moved Hermione to other schools three times and had no idea how to handle their daughter. No one saw how special and unique she was; people always reacted with prejudice and fear, calling her names and treating her as an outcast. It hurt deep into her hearts to see Hermione come home looking so desolate and having nothing to share about any friends…Her brightness, her cleverness, those were traits to be admired, not frowned upon, but only they could see Hermione for what she was. When a tall woman who wore a pointed green hat had visited them last summer and turned herself into a cat in front of them, they knew right away that Hermione was not alone. Her hearts filled with hope once again.

The woman had told them that Hermione was a witch and that she had a secured place in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It did not matter that now Hermione would spend months away from them because their brilliant and kindhearted daughter would finally have a chance to be happy.

"Sweetheart, when are you going to meet Harry and Ron?" asked Mrs. Granger, a woman who had chestnut straight hair and amber doe eyes.

"Next Saturday," answered the girl, who was sitting on top of the kitchen bench and licking a giant spoon of chocolate cake batter – sugar-free, of course.

Hermione had spent her holidays telling them everything about Hogwarts – except, of course, the part in which a three-headed dog named Fluffy had almost killed her. Oh, and the part in which she had served detention in a place named _Forbidden Forest_. And, of course, she could not tell them how they had almost died playing Wizard Chess before facing the most evil dark wizard of all times. But she had managed somehow to tell them about Harry and Ron, her best friends, without mentioning any of those dangerous episodes. She had told them about the castle, the gamekeeper Hagrid, the teachers, the feasts and the library – the best place in all Hogwarts. They had exchanged funny glances at that remark – it was a _very_ Hermione thing to say.

Some weeks ago, when she had showed her grades to her parents and found out that she was top of the first year class, they had looked delighted. They had hanged the parchment on the fridge – not before wondering aloud why on Earth someone would still use parchment and quills.

"We'd love to meet your friends, dear," her Mum said, opening the fridge and grabbing a bowl of fresh strawberries. A delicious smell had invaded the kitchen as the chocolate cake baked inside the oven. "Are you sure we can go to this Vertical Alley without Professor McGonagall?"

"_Diagon Alley_," she corrected her with a smile, shaking her head. "And yes, you can! I spoke to Professor McGonagall before the end of the term and she explained that muggleborn parents may accompany their kids until they are of age."

"Which, for some unfathomable reason, will be at seventeen," her father piped in, entering the kitchen and popping an entire strawberry in his mouth; Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes at his behavior. Hermione had inherited her curly hair from him, but Mr. Granger's dark blonde hair was getting thinner every year.

"Well, many things are different in the wizard world, but some things are still the same…" she muttered with a heavy sight, placing the bowl inside the kitchen sink.

"Are we finally going to understand why you're always sighing and tuning off our conversations randomly?" her mother asked with a lopsided smile as she washed the strawberries and pushed her husband's hands away from the remaining fruit.

"It's nothing," Hermione replied very quickly, blushing lightly. "It's just that not all wizards like having a muggleborn amongst them."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure, but they seem to think that we are not entitled of our magic and that we stole it."

"Why does it make any difference, Hermione? You know that you were born this way."

"Well…"

Hermione told them everything about Draco. And saying it out loud made relief wash over her instantly. She told them everything about her interactions with Draco (or _almost_ everything): from their meeting at the Hogwarts Express to his cold behavior during the Sorting Ceremony; from their bumping into the library to his sneering face whenever they crossed paths. She mentioned the way his eyes had lit up in wonder at her bluebell flames – neglecting that they had met in the Forbidden Forest while serving detentions. If their parents thought any of that was weird, they did a great job at concealing it. By the end of her tale, Hermione's cheeks were flushed, her hair was wild and her heart was racing. Yet, she felt strangely better.

"I see," her mother muttered, chopping off the tops of the strawberries to decorate the chocolate cake. "Well, Hermione, something very similar happened to me a long time ago."

"Is that so?" Hermione breathed out, biting on her lip.

"Yes. However, I was actually Draco and a great friend of mine was you," she clarified, working through the strawberries. "As you know, my parents come from a very traditional, well-respected and wealthy British family. I never had to ask for anything and always had the best. Your grandparents educated me the way they thought was best, which means that I unfortunately was very snobbish and bigoted most of my childhood. Our ideas of having fun were having tea with other socialites, going at their balls and having no ambition besides finding a decent and wealthy husband."

"I can't picture you like this," Hermione said, tilting her head to the side and muffling a giggle.

"Neither can I," she chuckled. "When I was fifteen and moved to another school, there was this boy who did not fit in at all. He had gotten first place in a national championship and the school had offered him free tuition. He came from a very humble family and I knew that from the moment I saw him. The accent, the clothing, his behavior… Nothing fitted into that reality, _our reality, my reality_. He was a very clever boy and he managed to befriend many of our classmates because he was always willing to help them. But my clique and I were too traditional and we kept bullying him, casting him aside, making sure he knew through our sneers and remarks that he would never be one of us.

"That's awful."

"Definitely not my best moment and I'm not proud of that. My parents were baffled that the school had accepted that kid and they had very clear opinions on where he belonged, which they were not embarrassed to share with me over dinner. This boy was always on my heels, trying to find a way to get my attention and be my friend. I guess he had made it his mission at some point to break into my arrogant heart. He was kind, I knew that he was, and he helped me a couple of times without asking for anything in return. In the meantime, my clique and I kept mocking him, bullying him, yet he had this _drive_, this _fierce determination _and he never gave up. He insisted for two years and that idea kept hammering inside my head. Why couldn't we just be friends? Why should I just do what my parents had taught me?" she told Hermione, stowing the chopped strawberries inside the fridge, removing her apron and folding it neatly.

"Hum," Hermione mumbled, her head spinning.

"On my senior year, I faced one of my greatest disappointments. I wanted to go to college, become a dentist, have a career. My parents were beside themselves. They told me that I was supposed to find a wealthy husband, raise some kids and that was it. We had an unprecedented fight and I had to go to school the next day feeling worse than ever. This kid was the only one who took notice of me and asked what was wrong. I told him what had happened and he said that I was right, that I should stand up for myself, follow my dreams and my heart, and be brave. Then, I finally figured out that his heritage, his upbringing, that they did not matter anymore. He had offered me what I had always wanted but had never admitted to myself: someone who just _cared_ about me regardless of who I was, where I came from or what I owned. Needless to say, we became friends afterwards and I pursued my dream and went to college anyway."

Hermione was gaping at her mother, heart racing and amber eyes widened. She was holding the edge of the kitchen bench so hard that her knuckles were white.

"You and Draco remind me of my friend and I. I know exactly what it means to come from a prejudiced family who imposes its values upon us and decides everything on our behalf. Give him time, my dear. You're so young, much younger than my friend and I were. You have a long way ahead. I am sharing this story with you because you have the same fierce determination that my friend had, and Draco seems to be as eager to please his family as I was. Besides, I believe he also had the same traditional and bigoted upbringing I had. If you really like him and saw something that you haven't seen in Harry and Ron, be patient, be kind and don't give up on Draco. He will need you, I'm sure. Harry and Ron are your friends and you should not leave them behind. But follow your heart and your intuition, sweetheart. I am sure that that boy you saw last summer truly exists and cares about you too."

Hermione's eyes were glistening now. That was one of the reasons she loved her Mum so much. She knew exactly how to comfort Hermione in the wisest possible way. She did not tell her what she hoped to hear, but rather what she _needed_ to hear. She did not just hand her the answers but gave her a lot to think so that she would figure out the answers herself.

"Thanks, Mum," she hugged Mrs. Granger tenderly. "I love you."

"I love you too, Hermione. Now go, I am sure you're eager to read that Hogwarts book again, aren't you?"

Hermione beamed at her mother and ran upstairs immediately, her heart swollen with fierce determination once more. Meanwhile, Mr. Granger, who had watched that conversation quietly, got up, walked to his wife, hugged her tightly and then kissed her temple.

"Do you intend to tell her that your friend happens to be me?"

"She'll figure it out," she smiled, waving her hand in casual dismissal. "Besides, did you see her face when she told us about this Draco boy?"

"What about it?"

"It's the exact same expression you had when you looked at me."

**X**

**A/N:** thanks everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. Thank you foreverathogwarts, Leena F, JJ 003, TeachMeToFly, Guest and pgoodrichboggs. As everyone pointed out, Lucius is indeed a very bigoted and threatening man but Draco loves him very much, which makes it harder for him to go against everything he was taught. This chapter should pair with the previous one and provide you with a glimpse on Hermione's side. Hope you enjoy the parallels and also take notice of the critical differences between their upbringings. It should also highlight a bit of the conflicts we will probably see in the next chapters, so I hope you enjoy. Please let me know your thoughts!


	7. The alley

"_It was one of those times you feel a sense of loss, even though you didn't have something in the first place. I guess that's what disappointment is ― a sense of loss for something you never had." ― Deb Caletti, The Nature of Jade_

X

Hermione, Harry and Ron had planned to meet that weekend at Flourish & Blotts, where they would buy books for their second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The brunette was very eager to meet her friends, especially after learning about their latest adventure flying the Ford Anglia that belonged to the ginger boy's father. She had already rehearsed quite the speech to reprimand them both not only for being so lucky to survive such a dangerous feat, but also and mainly for violating the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. _Obviously_, she was happy that Harry had been rescued; she was very worried about his wellbeing given that her friend had not answered any of the letters she had owled him. However, that did not mean she approved of the tactics employed in his rescue…

She wondered whether it was possible for that term to be less eventful than the prior.

"Hermione, sweetheart, isn't that your friend Ron?" Mrs. Granger asked, placing a book back to its shelf. She had been flipping the pages of a book written on the medical properties of _chocolate_, and her expression had been slowly morphing from skepticism to casual interest.

"It is, Mum! And I suppose he came with his entire family!"

Ron spotted Hermione and made a beeline to her with his parents. The man was ginger just like his children, though his hair was getting thin at the very top of his head – much like Hermione's father. He also had the same blue eyes and long nose of Ron's. The woman, on the other hand, was short and plump with ginger hair and a kind smile plastered in her chubby face. Mr. Weasley beamed at them as his eyes fell on Hermione's parents. He was _fascinated_ by muggles and even kept a collection of the most random muggle objects much to the exasperation of his wife.

"How are you, Hermione?" he greeted them, his eyes sparkling with joy. He was almost standing on the tips of his toes as he tried to contain his eagerness. "Am I right to assume that these are your parents?"

"Yes," she answered as Molly Weasley hugged her tightly after greeting her parents with a bear hug as well. "Mum, Dad, this is Arthur Weasley. He works at the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"Oh, it's incredible that you're here," the wizard chortled, his eyes glancing from Mrs. Granger to Mr. Granger as though he wanted to take in everything that their presence comprised. "Muggles in Diagon Alley! I can't think of something more fascinating than that!"

Hermione's parents looked apprehensive at first, but soon they engaged into a friendly conversation with the man. Luckily, it had crossed Hermione's mind that they would probably meet the Weasleys, so she had briefed her parents on the way Mr. Weasley was most likely going to _behave _around them. She noticed that the man kept inquiring her parents about many muggle objects such as tellies, fridges and computers. When he asked them about cars, she knew that her Dad was won over: he spent every weekend at the garage taking care of the car he had inherited from his father as though it was his own son.

"I'm getting into the queue, he'll be here soon," Mrs. Weasley whispered, looking above the heads of the wizards who were starting to make a small crowd inside the bookshop. "Ron, keep an eye on your sister, Fred and George are probably at that Quidditch shop…"

Hermione finally noticed that there was a small girl with fire red hair behind Ron. Her eyes were brown and she was slightly less freckled than her brother.

"Hermione, this is Ginny, my sister," he introduced them in a flippant tone, his eyes scanning the crowd as he stood on his tiptoes. "Bloody hell, where's Harry?"

"What do you mean '_Where's Harry?'_", she scolded Ron, placing her hands on her hips, her calm expression morphing into the bossy one that they were so used to; Ginny looked at Hermione with amusement. "I thought he was with you _after that extremely dangerous adventure that could have had you two expelled._"

At least Ron had the decency to blush under her glare.

"Look, it wasn't like we had any other choice. You said it yourself that Harry hadn't replied to any of your letters! We found him locked inside a room and practically starving. There were bars on his window, Hermione. Mum almost threw a tantrum when she saw him, she thought he was malnourished," he told Hermione and her amber eyes widened in shock. "Besides, it was all Malfoy's fault. His family decided it'd be funny to send their house elf to scare Harry away. It ended up dropping a cake down on this old lady's head and the Dursleys reckoned it was Harry's fault and almost flayed him alive. _That_ almost got Harry expelled, if you wanna know. He got a letter from the Ministry of Magic!"

"Malfoy?" Hermione muttered, brows furrowed in obvious confusion. _Why does everything revolve around that boy?_

"Yes, the house elf, Dobby or something, said that it belonged to the Malfoy family and that they were dark wizards. Nothing new, if you'd asked me… Look, it's Harry!"

Stunned at that information and before having a chance to chastise Ron for calling the elf an _it_, Hermione tried to disguise the awful feeling that lodged on the tip of her stomach and plastered the best smile she could muster. Though covered in ashes, glasses cracked and lopsided, Harry Potter was there. He did not look malnourished, so the girl could only assume that Molly Weasley had managed to keep him on a diet.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and then performing a spell to fix his glasses. "We were worried sick! Where have you been? Ron's just told me about your holidays! I'd have helped you if I'd have known!"

"Hey there, Hermione," he greeted her, smiling, examining his glasses and looking impressed at her ability to perform magic at the most random situations. "I had an accident with the Floo Network and ended up landing at the Knockturn Alley, at Borgin & Burkes," he began telling while Ron and Hermione stared at him with staggered expressions. "And you have no idea who I saw there…"

But whoever Harry had met at the dark artifacts shop remained unknown as his voice was suddenly muffled by the cheering and clapping crowd that had taken over the bookshop. The four wizards glanced at each other and got closer to the center of that commotion. There was a photographer, lots of witches and some wizards fawning over a man who was smiling brightly at the center of the bookshop, his vivid blue eyes shining in the middle of the commotion. His smile was enough for Hermione's parents to look completely dumbfounded that there were no dentists in the wizarding world, whereas his blonde, slick hair was fixed so meticulously well that he had probably spent two hours in front of the mirror just to get that effect. He was posing to the photographer and holding a book named "_Magical Me_" in his manicured hands. Before she could catch herself, Hermione was clapping and gazing tenderly at the wizard too.

"Looks like someone finally found something more interesting than books," Ron mused and Harry snickered, while Hermione merely glowered at the duo.

"It _can't be_ Harry Potter? In my autograph session, nonetheless!"

The audience immediately turned on their heels and gaped at the trio, while the photographer snatched Harry by the elbow, pushing him towards the blonde wizard. The boy was beginning to turn green, and that was visible even below the ashes in which he was covered. He looked as if he would rather go back to Knockturn Alley or to the Forbidden Forest – and taking Draco Malfoy as his company, nonetheless. That thought made Hermione bite on her lip to suppress her chuckles.

"Harry would never have guessed when he woke up this lovely morning that he would meet me, Gilderoy Lockhart, in this charming bookshop," he enunciated every word gallantly as though he was announcing the cure for dragon pox; for some strange reason, Hermione felt hypnotized and was believing every word of his. "Nonetheless, not only will he have the pleasure of being featured in the first page of the Afternoon Prophet, but learn firsthand I, Gilderoy Lockhart, will be his new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Of course, he will also get all my books and a signed copy of my biography '_Magical Me'_"!

The audience clapped excitedly as the photographer registered the moment and Hermione cheered even more at learning that he would be their teacher. Perhaps they would have a decent one that year, considering that the last had hidden Lord Voldemort beneath his turban.

Lockhart pushed Harry back to his friends, books in hand, and sat down to sign everyone's copies of his biography. Mrs. Weasley reached out for Harry and took his books, muttering something like "_can't have only _one_ signed copy, dear, let me ask him to sign the others_". Harry joined his friends, his face flushed, embarrassed and angry. Ron was doing his best to be supportive of his friend, but a small sly smile kept making his mouth twitch upwards. The dark-haired boy indicated the exit door and they started making way for it. But, before they could go any further, their path was blocked by none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter? Famous Harry Potter can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page," the boy mocked with a sneer, punctuating every syllable in his drawled and derisive tone.

Hermione felt her excitement for Gilderoy Lockhart melt off instantly. She folded her arms and pursed her lips, her heart torn between scolding him from that despicable behavior or listening to her gut and asking him for a word alone.

"Leave him alone," Ginny spoke for the first time, her brown eyes flashing angrily.

"Oh, look, Potter, you got yourself a girlfriend," he snarled, smirking. His grey eyes landed automatically on Hermione, who was watching him with an unreadable and transfixed expression. Doing his best not to step back under that gaze, he averted his eyes and placed his hands inside his pockets.

"Now, now, Draco, be nice," warned a cold, hissed voice.

A wizard came just behind the Slytherin boy, his grey eyes so like his son's, but lacking any form of warmth. It was a cold and dark gaze that made Hermione shudder at once. He wore dark robes and held a pompous cane, which combined with his pulled blonde hair and straightened shoulders made Hermione immediately think of a vampire she had once seen in a stupid movie. However, the effect could not have been more different. Everything about that wizard was terrifying and intimidating, especially his eyes; they were filled with such loath and disgust that the girl was beginning to wonder if she had done something to offend him.

Hermione watched his grey eyes for a second longer and how they were just like his son's, except for one small detail. Hermione knew that Draco, albeit usually sneering at them, was actually capable of summoning some warmth to those storm grey pools. His father was a different story altogether…

"Mr. Potter! Lucius Malfoy, Draco's Father. We meet at last," said the wizard, giving Harry his hand. The boy shook it begrudgingly and let it go quickly. "Forgive me, your scar is legend," he carried on, watching the boy's forehead, apprehension etched in every corner of his aristocratic features. "As, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you."

Hermione saw herself disliking more and more where that conversation was headed. Suddenly, her thoughts were clouded with nothing but a great desire to tell that man some choice words that she had overheard her dad muttering once.

"Voldemort killed my parents," the Gryffindor boy retorted, narrowing his green eyes.

"You must be very brave to mention his name. Or very foolish."

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," Hermione cut them, her voice sharp and full of determination. She kept her amber eyes firm on Lucius's face and did not notice the way Draco fidgeted uncomfortably. She could not care less about Draco at that moment, not when she was finally aware of who was responsible for turning him into an arrogant, pretentious little bully.

"And who are you?" the man asked with a supercilious expression, though the shock of being interrupted by Hermione was still visible in the tilting of his head and slight twitch of his eyes as he examined the girl.

"Hermione Granger," she replied in a defiant tone. Her eyes were squinted and focused on standing her ground. She still had not noticed how Draco was growing paler by the second and kept darting his eyes from Lucius to her.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Yes, Draco's told me all about you. And your parents. Muggles, aren't they?" he derided, looking at the back of the bookshop where Hermione's parents chatted with Mr. Weasley. He saw Lucius and swallowed hard whereas Hermione clenched her jaw more firmly at the threatening tone of that vile wizard, who added, "Let me see. Red hair... vacant expressions... tatty secondhand book... you must be the Weasleys," he mused, pulling an old-looking book placed inside the cauldron in Ginny's hands and examining it with clear disgust.

"Children, it's mad in here. Let's go outside," Mr. Weasley piped in, disconcerted.

"Well, well, well. Weasley senior."

"Lucius."

"Busy time at the Ministry, Arthur, all those extra raids? I do hope they're paying you overtime. Though judging by the state of this, I'd say not," the man remarked, dryly, placing the book back inside Ginny's cauldron. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of a wizard, Malfoy,"

"Clearly," and his grey eyes went to Hermione's parents, who were watching that commotion in clear hesitation. The girl narrowed her eyes even further and Lucius's eyes widened briefly once again in outrage at her stance. "Associating with muggles. And I thought your family could sink no lower. I assume you managed to find enough money to buy yourselves some new shelves to dig a little deeper."

Arthur Weasley's fists were clenched to his side, wand firm in one of his hands, but he did not dare cause any unnecessary commotion in that bookshop, especially when there was a photographer ready to turn that into unwelcome news. Instead, he called his children to go outside and wait for their mother. Harry, Ron and Ginny immediately followed, but Hermione stood still, glaring coolly at the father and son duo.

Her mind was more disquieted than ever and her Mum's words to be kind and patient with Draco seemed part of an alternate reality. Was he really worthy of her caring about him? All she cared about in that very moment was show to that man, his Father, that he had no place mocking the Weasleys or posing veiled threats about her parents through that bigoted speech. Her ears were buzzing at his taunts and ice-cold leers, and her mind was replaying every single time Draco Malfoy had insulted her and her friends.

"See you at work, Arthur," Lucius snarled, raising his chin proudly. His eyes stood a second longer on Hermione and she could see anger boil inside him at her defiant look. However, he turned on his heels and exited the bookshop, leaving his son behind.

Draco gulped under Hermione's stone-cold expression, which did not have even an ounce of the kind and warm behavior she usually reserved for him in spite of his sneers, glares and snarls. He immediately remembered the conversation he had had with his Father the day he had gotten back from Hogwarts and started panicking. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to think of _some way _to tell her that. Hermione had just challenged Lucius. She had no idea the sort of danger she had gotten herself into. She had no idea what Lucius was capable of. She had no idea who he was.

"Granger…" he began against his better judgment, keen to find a way to let her know what sort of danger she could be facing.

"What?"

"Granger, you shouldn't have done that," he muttered in a pleading tone."Why did you have to do that?"

"Do what? Defend my parents? Stand by my _friends_?" she asked, highlighting that last word as though wanting to make a point to Draco that Harry and Ron were her friends. Her eyes were just slits now and her voice, inflamed. She could not believe that that _prat _was defending his father! She could not believe he was going to lecture her for standing for what was right! How could she be so naïve to assume he was different?

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Hermione pressed on. "You did not seem to disapprove of anything he told us. If anything, you probably agree with him!"

Why did she care so much about him? Perhaps her Mum was wrong. Perhaps Draco would always be a bigoted, prejudiced little kid who worshipped his father. Perhaps that boy lacked one very important element to accept her friendship, to accept who she was: _willingness_.

"You just don't understand!" Draco tried through gritted teeth, almost pulling his own hair at her stubbornness, at how that stupid know-it-all girl insisted on acting so superior, at how that girl just kept assuming she knew him. _Why can't she just understand?_

"No, I think I do. I think I understand it better than ever! You're just like your father, _Malfoy_," she spat, turning back and stomping off to the back of the bookshop to meet her parents.

Draco felt all air escape his lungs as he watched her retreating figure.

_Embarrassment. Shame. Weakness. Stupidity. Failure._

But most of all, _loss._

In that very moment, their almost friendship meant _nothing_.

X

**A/N:** thank you very much to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. We have now reached one hundred followers, so huge thanks to everyone who is supporting. Thanks rabradley09, TeachMeToFly, foreverathogwarts, Leena F, pgoodrichboggs, JJ 003, AlwaysLastToKnow and Mary Norton, your words are very encouraging and I loved reading your perceptions about the parallels between Draco's and Hermione's upbringing. I wanted to do that because I think that a lot of the way they behave mirrors their parents.

Obviously, second year will not be easy and this sets a bit of the mood of what we're going to see. In spite of Mrs. Granger's story, Hermione is still a twelve-year old. Therefore, I believe in spite of believing that Draco can be redeemed, she is very protective of her parents and her friends, which is why I wrote this chapter and the way she reacts to Lucius and Draco's lack of response. In the long run, of course the story is going to influence her feelings towards Draco, but I don't think everything will be solved from one week to another. Growth takes time and that is how I intend to write this story. Anyway, please let me know your thoughts.


	8. The word

"_A proud man is always looking down on things and people; and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you." **― **C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity_

X

"Ron, where are you going?" Hermione asked suspiciously, running after Ron.

Ever since Harry and Ron had decided _yet again _to get into trouble and fly Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglia from King's Cross Station to Hogwarts, Hermione was on their heels. Not only had their little adventure become news and resulted in Ron's father being investigated by the Ministry of Magic (as highlighted in a deafening voice in the howler Mrs. Weasley had sent his son), but they had also received detentions and lost points for Gryffindor. Hermione was sure that it was unprecedented in all Hogwarts history for someone to start the term with negative points, but the school clearly had so much to witness… Perhaps they would get their own chapter in _Hogwarts, a History_.

That ghastly episode had even managed to take her mind off the Diagon Alley _situation_, something that seemed impossible when she had gotten home back in that day. That tempestuous turmoil with Draco had tattered her resolution. She had been trying to prove a point to him, but his behavior at the bookshop had extinguished any chance of whatever she expected of him. She could see hurt and anger flash in his grey eyes as she carelessly threw those words at him.

_You're just like your father, _Malfoy.

Hermione almost expected to feel better after putting a cork in his arrogance. But as he shut up and glanced at her with a look she had never seen cross his face, something began playing in the back of her mind.

Those we care the most about are the ones who we hurt deeper. It had accomplished nothing.

She had tried to focus on her new books. Although it had taken her mind off the aches and the pains, Hermione was still feeling the same. Her unwavering attention simply kept darting from one book to another. Her resolution was to be kind and patient. Instead, she had resorted to bitterness and resentment.

The rest of the holidays had dragged their heels and she could sense swelling shame in her chest. Thrice, she had drafted different letters to send to Draco Malfoy. Thrice, she had given her trash can something to digest. Words were her best friends, but suddenly she seemed to be fishing for them in the open sea. Her lexicon seemed insufficient to express whatever it was she wanted to tell him. Was it an apology? Was it an olive branch? Was it another chance? Was it _just a letter_ from one _almost-friend_ to another?

But they weren't friends. Or were they?

That question was as difficult to understand as her own feelings about Draco Malfoy.

Before Hermione could find an answer to that conundrum, she saw herself back at Hogwarts scurrying after Ronald Weasley as he sauntered across the courtyard. Soon her thoughts about the Slytherin boy vanished as a rush to her brain indicated more pressing matters. In that case, preventing more trouble and another loss of points for Gryffindor.

"It's the first Quidditch practice and Harry's there," he replied, as though thinking she was crazy. Then, he took notice of her suspicious expression and shook his ginger head, adding, "Frankly, Hermione, aren't you going to give us a break?"

"Until you stay out of trouble _for good_, _no_," she highlighted every word, angrily, hands on her hips. "If you followed the rules, you wouldn't need me overseeing you!"

"You must be really angry if you're willing to watch Quidditch," Ron muttered, sighing. Hermione just rolled her eyes and pulled her backpack, following the boy up close.

They were heading to the Quidditch pitch in silence when they came across a small commotion in the middle of the courtyard. Ron eyed Hermione with some hesitation, as though wanting to tell her that he had not anticipated or planned that, but the girl seemed adamant on seeing for herself what was going on. As they approached the group, they realized that the Gryffindor team was arguing about something with the Slytherins. Well, arguing was quite an understatement; it seemed as if Oliver Wood was resorting to every fiber in his body not to hex the Slytherin Quidditch captain into the next century. Hermione and Ron exchanged cautious glances at the sight of his reddened face and got closer.

"You've got a new seeker? Who?" asked Oliver Wood, a strong and tall sixth year student who played as Gryffindor keeper. Even from a distance, Hermione could see how the Slytherin team had a triumphant expression in their naturally arrogant expressions. That was never a good sign.

"See it for yourself," retorted Marcus Flint, whose teeth would give endless nightmares to Hermione's parents.

The Slytherin team made a dramatic move and out of the middle of them came Draco Malfoy. The boy had his best nonchalant smirk plastered across his pointed face, his chest puffed up as though he had just won the entire competition.

"And that's not all that's new this year. Look what his Father gave to us," Flint carried on, showing the brooms that everyone in the team was holding proudly.

"Those are Nimbus Two-Thousand and Ones! How'd you get those?" Ron exclaimed, his eyes sparkling as he gazed longingly at the objects.

"I'm glad you recognize them, Weasley," Malfoy disdained in his typical drawled voice, "even if your family's too poor to even buy you a decent wand," and then he nodded to Ron's wand, poorly tied with some tape. Ron blushed furiously.

Hermione's ears were buzzing again. Why did her mind keep riddling her with those wrong perceptions about that despicable boy? Draco was nothing more than a bully, a mean wizard whose sole purpose seemed to be pester everyone that he deemed inferior. She felt transported back at the Diagon Alley watching grey eyes, cold sneers and contemptuous words.

_You're just like your father, _Malfoy.

_You're just like your father, _Malfoy.

_You're just like your father, _Malfoy.

The words were blubbering again before she had a chance to refrain herself.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent," Hermione cut in with an ironic smile at the Slytherin boy.

Draco was back at Diagon Alley, staring at Hermione's cold gaze and furious words. She had inflicted such venom, such heartlessness before leaving without another word. She had meant to hurt him _just like his Father_. She had meant to treat him as a failure _just like his Father_. She had meant to admonish him, to belittle him, to humiliate him _just like his Father_.

_You're just like your father, _Malfoy.

_You're just like your father, _Malfoy.

_You're just like your father, _Malfoy.

He absolutely hated being compared to Lucius. But he hated being humiliated even more. That girl happened to be nothing but filthy, dirty, little scum.

Draco's ears were buzzing too as images of every single time his Father had ridiculed him in that venomous, condescending, supercilious tone flashed in front of his eyes. Before he could think straight, he snapped:

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood!"

This time it was Hermione who felt all air escape her lungs just as the Gryffindor team charged against the Slytherin players. They were all laughing as Fred and George made their way to Malfoy. Hermione did not even see the way Ron's spell backfired and caused him to start vomiting slugs. When she finally took notice of her whereabouts, she was inside Hagrid's hut and Ron was emptying his stomach; Harry watched them both with pale features.

"Who was he tryin' ter curse anyway?"

"Malfoy. He called Hermione, hum, I don't know exactly what it means."

"He called me a mudblood. It means dirty blood. Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who's muggleborn. Someone with non-magic parents. Someone like me! It's not a term one usually hears in civilized conversations."

Hagrid was able to comfort Hermione with some kind words, but Draco's backlash was still setting her eyelids on fire. She thought about his words the entire day as though she had been trapped into that moment forever, trying hard not to show how much that had affected her. But it had because _he_ had been the one to utter that slur, that foul word that she had pretended not to hear other students hissing at her in the dark Hogwarts corridors the year before. She had tricked herself into thinking that his despicable behavior would not come to that.

But he had called her a mudblood anyway.

She saw the faint widening of his eyes at her witty comeback. And then the clenching of his fists and gritting of his teeth. The slight crisping of his lips and hurt in his eyes then gave place to that deriding drawled tone as he called her the biggest offense any muggleborn could every take. In the end, he had clenched his jaw in triumph at her misery and Hermione finally realized that perhaps they would never be friends.

It would have hurt less if he had made her vomit slugs as well.

Would people always remember that she was a muggleborn, in spite of how bright of a witch she was? Would that stay in the back of people's mind no matter how hard she strived or pushed herself, regardless of how talented and powerful she was? But Draco had not lied, had he? Hermione was a muggleborn and there was nothing bad about that! If people agreed with Draco, if they really thought her blood made her inferior, so be it! She would not be underestimated or frowned upon, she would not allow those slurs to determine how she got to spend the rest of her life.

Nonetheless, in that very moment, it hurt. It hurt so much to know that her upbringing would always be tainted, and that someone that _unexplainably _mattered so much to her actually cared about where she had come from. But why did Draco's approval matter? Why was his opinion actually relevant? Why did she care about him or what he thought about her? Regardless of how much she pondered, she could not get her head around _why_. They had barely talked, but that first conversation had impacted her so much! Why was she so affected by every single interaction they had? Why were his words hammering inside her head and making her so vulnerable? What was so special about any of that?

Draco did not care about her _at all_.

_No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood!_

Hermione had not cried for quite some time now, but once the first tear popped in the corner of her bright amber eyes, a stream of them followed suit.

Far from there, Draco was sitting at the Slytherin Common Room, completely oblivious to what everyone else was doing. Blaise Zabini was beside him as well as Theodore Nott, a skinny Slytherin student whose inkjet hair contrasted greatly with Draco's pale complexion. Both of them were chatting in muted tones, but Malfoy was not paying any attention to them. Flint and the rest of the Slytherin team had called him some time ago most likely to congratulate him for the first Quidditch practice and for putting Weasley and Granger into their rightful places. Draco was proficient at feigning excitement, but not even that was enough to cover how miserable he felt.

In that very moment, Draco hated the way he had not proved Hermione wrong as she accused him of being just like his Father. He had actually proved her right in the vilest form. But, most of all, he hated how much he cared about what she thought of him.

Because Granger was inferior, wasn't she? She was a muggleborn, wasn't she? She wasn't worthy of her magic, was she? She was not supposed to be among them. That was not her place. She was the one to blame for being called a mudblood by acting so disrespectfully, by thinking she could belittle him, humiliate him, treat him like a failure. She was the sole responsible for all of that with her cleverness and witty remarks, with her desire to always be a damn know-it-all and have the last word.

Now it was his time to have the last word. And that was it:_ mudblood._

A mudblood who had beat him at everything. A mudblood who had befriended Harry Potter. A mudblood who had talked back to his Father. A mudblood who had humiliated him in front of his team. A mudblood who had lied about her heritage and pretended to be his friend on year ago. A mudblood who had lent her bluebell flames because he was too scared in the Forbidden Forest. A mudblood who was kinder and cleverer than anyone else he had ever met.

He had not spared a single thought about that infuriating bushy-haired girl after their meeting in Diagon Alley. He had pretended afterwards not to be bothered by her words or disappointed at himself for being who he was. He had pretended not to be angry and disappointed at himself for losing an _almost-friend_ who _unexplainably_ mattered to him. Now, however, it was like every single brain cell of his was cluttered with images of desolate amber doe eyes and plummeted shoulders. She had not cried, but it was not like she needed to. She was the picture of heartbreak. Draco's brain seemed to have stuck in that scene. Her cold gaze had melted at once at his unspeakable words. Their replacement had been pain, disappointment, hurt and genuine misery.

Those we care the most about are the ones who we hurt deeper. It had accomplished nothing.

His stomach dropped painfully as he realized that. And he had called her a mudblood.

Why did Granger's feelings impact him so much? Why was he so affected by every single interaction that they had? Why did he feel so compelled to talk to her instead of just ignoring her pathetic existence? But Granger was not pathetic. She was clever, kind, witty and fiercely determined, traits that someone _like her_ should not possess. She was supposed to be simple, irrelevant, filthy, little, pitiable – but she was not. She was not like that, she was not any of that. Why did Draco care? Why did that entire situation make him feel so uncomfortable? Why did it hurt so much to hurt her so bad? Why did he care? Deep down, he knew why, yet he wish he did not.

But they weren't friends. Or were they?

That question was as difficult to understand as her own feelings about Hermione Granger.

"Draco, are you still with us?" Blaise asked in a worried tone, glancing at the boy with a frown.

"I'm just thinking," he replied absentmindedly, sighing deeply, his mind pounding so goddamn hard at those absurd thoughts that it felt like splitting right into the middle.

"Is there something to do with that Quidditch practice earlier today?" Theo insisted with his head tilted to the side and worried eyes.

"No, Theo, there's nothing to do with that stupid Granger," Draco snapped, heatedly, throwing a dirty look right at them. "And if you know what's good to you, mind your own business."

Draco stormed off and left both of his friends stunned. He did not need their company.

"We didn't say a word about Granger," Theo muttered, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, then I happen to have a very interesting story to tell you."

X

**A/N:** thank you everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. Thank you rabradley09, Leena F, TeachMeToFly, pgoodrichboggs, PhiLi08 and foreverathogwarts. I think this chapter helps explain a bit more why Draco tried to warn Hermione and how he reacted to her words as we can see a closer look at what he's been thinking and feeling.

Regarding the feeling of loss he experienced last chapter, the hint as to why he felt that is actually in the opening quote of last chapter "_I guess that's what disappointment is ― a sense of loss for something you never had_.". He feels disappointed at himself for not standing up and confronting his questions about Hermione and also their almost-friendship and the same arc carries on in this chapter.

Finally, this chapter also follows one of the most meaningful interactions they ever had in canon (in my opinion), but I also tried to show why it matters so much to Hermione. We take a closer look at what being a muggleborn actually means. I have also mirrored much of their feelings and conclusions throughout the entire chapter because I believe they are coming from very similar places in spite of being very different people. Also, what do you think about Blaise and Theo? We will see more of them very soon. Please let me know your thoughts.


	9. The group

"_Have you ever noticed how 'What the hell' is always the right decision to make?" ― Terry Johnson, Insignificance_

X

After the incident with Draco, Hermione tried to focus on resuming her routine in Hogwarts as if nothing had happened. She noticed how the Slytherin boy kept stealing sly glances at the Gryffindor table, his aristocratic features looking remarkably odd for the lack of a better word. She also noticed how every single time that happened, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott eyed their friend with knowing grins as if they knew what Malfoy was up to. However, the brunette had no intention whatsoever of reading too much into those episodes. Malfoy had once again made it very clear what he truly thought about Hermione and she would do her best not to ever think about him again. She had had enough disappointments for a lifetime.

_No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood!_

Her crying had eventually subsided and left Hermione feeling something she could not quite comprehend. Soreness. Numbness. Aloofness. Bitterness. None of that seemed suitable to an almost thirteen-year old girl, but then again she was far from ordinary.

But as extraordinary as life was, it still carried on.

She thought about the story her Mum had told her less and less every day.

In that morning, they would have double Potions classes with the Slytherin students. The first class the week before had been a fiasco – Neville had managed to blow up a cauldron where he was supposed to be brewing cure for boils. As most of them did not need to be cured for that in the first place, they had assumed that no side effects would appear. However, that was Hogwarts, not Tuesday night cooking shows, so every single student had been sent to the Hospital Wing to drink antidotes for conditions that included nose swelling, pink smoke coming off their ears and greasy reddish skin.

Neville had been given detentions for the entire month and Gryffindor had _yet again_ lost a humongous amount of House points. Perhaps all negatives and positives considered, they would set another record and end the term with no points at all.

Professor Snape, ambitiously vicious as he was, seemed sharper and more unpleasant than ever. Besides Neville's episode (that Harry and Ron could swear had made his hair even greasier), his temperament had worsened probably because he had once again lost the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to a complete moron. Hermione's infatuation had vanished completely in their first class. Lockhart had applied a test about his achievements (which she had aced) and then abandoned Harry, Ron and Hermione to collect all those Cornish pixies by themselves. Pathetic.

"After due consideration, I have decided that we might need to change the way we work or you shall remain proud of your complete and utter incompetence at the subtle science and exact art of potion-making, not to mention cause occupational hazards with your inability to read and follow basic instructions. As the pitiful preparations you have obtained were prepared by yourselves or with your own Housemates, maybe the _delight_ of partnering up with another House will be enough of a stimulus for your asinine brains to start functioning," he enunciated every word venomously with a cold expression as he addressed every student behind his curtains of greasy black hair. "From this happy day on, you shall work as follows. Potter and Malfoy. Weasley and Crabbe. Longbottom and Goyle. Brown and Bullstrode. Patil and Parkinson. Finnigan and Nott. Thomas and Zabini. Granger and Greengrass. And do me a favor, Longbottom, try not to blow up your partner this time, will you?"

With bitter expressions, moans and frowns, everyone started dragging their bodies to their new desks. Hermione noticed that Harry was on the brink of a collapse and was watching Snape with a murderous gaze that was almost setting the wizard ablaze. Ron studied Crabbe with obvious displease as they were unsure whether the Slytherin boy could actually read. Meanwhile, Neville had stepped on Goyle's foot and the massive boy was flexing his knuckles in response while Neville was fidgeting even more than he usually did at Potions class.

On a second thought, Hermione's partner seemed to be the least bad.

"Granger," Daphne Greengrass greeted her, blankly. The girl was tall and skinny, with straight honey-blonde hair and hazel eyes.

"Greengrass," Hermione nodded back, trying not to purse her lips at the imminent disaster.

Remarkably, however, Hermione had to admit that working with Greengrass turned out to be better than expected. The girl remained in silence most of the time as they chopped their ingredients and watched Hermione thoughtfully as she stirred the cauldron where they were brewing their tonic for the nerves. The Slytherin girl wrote down every single remark made by Hermione and looked really interested in understanding how to brew the potion, something that neither Harry and Ron had ever done. In that very moment, Harry was almost tackling Malfoy to the ground as the blonde boy taunted him with scornful remarks, and Ron was absolutely failing at brewing his tonic, which was beginning to resemble cement. Neville and Goyle seemed to have achieved a mutual agreement – they had miraculously managed to turn their cauldron into an ice boulder.

At least they were safe and sound instead of having antlers sprouting out of their heads.

"Hey Granger," Daphne called her after they had handed their potion to Snape in a small bottle – the Professor had sniffed the Potion and crisped his lips, which probably meant that he approved of the results. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yes," she agreed in a clipped tone, eyes narrowed.

"It's just that, erm, I'm from Slytherin and our Houses don't get along very well…"

"That's the understatement of the century," Hermione scoffed, arms now folded in a defensive stance.

"I suck at Potions and, for some reason, my parents really want me to be good at it. Snape may be our House Director, but he doesn't cut us any slack. My point is," she sighed deeply and bit her lips before carrying on, obviously fighting to get the words out, "would you mind studying with me once a week at the library? Today was probably the day I did best and all because you helped me."

Hermione stared deliberately at Daphne, scanning the pretty face of the Slytherin girl and trying to read into her expression. She definitely seemed hesitant about that proposal; there was anxiety in the way she was twisting her hands and chewing on her lip mercilessly, probably thinking of how much their Houses _hated _each other. In all honesty, Hermione would not have any extra work and she certainly loved helping other people learn. Still, she had learned the hard way not to trust the Slytherin students and be suspicious of their (mostly ulterior) motives.

"What's the catch?" she inquired, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground.

"There's no catch," Daphne answered quickly, looking surprised at Hermione's behavior. "You help me, I improve my grades and Professor Snape leaves us alone."

The Slytherins could be quite cunning, creative and resourceful when they wanted to, she had to give them that. And to be quite honest, that proposal had been so unexpected that her brain felt frozen and unable to formulate a single answer other than _Yes_. She did not even know why she was pretending to ponder so hard; damn her bleeding Gryffindor lionheart!

"Fine," the Gryffindor girl acquiesced with a heavy sigh, realizing that Daphne looked sincere enough. "Do you have free periods on Thursday afternoons?"

"Yes," the slender Slytherin girl mused, clearly amazed at her own luck.

"Ok, so we meet at the library, then."

"Would you mind if Blaise and Theo joined us?" she tried tentatively, motioning to the duo who was peering at them next to the entrance of the class.

"No," Hermione answered, this time much to her own astonishment.

Harry and Ron had almost had a nervous breakdown when Hermione told them about her small study group.

Harry's eyes had widened to the size of golf balls before he started listing numerous reasons to avoid that – most of them involving Malfoy, Snape and Quidditch. Ron had insisted that every single evil wizard had been sorted into Slyhterin and had even mentioned that that House had the least amount of wizards featured in the Chocolate Frogs cards. Both of the boys tried in every way to convince their friend that it had to be a trap and there was no good intention in that request, that the Slytherin kids would most likely play a prank and make her cry.

In the middle of their tantrum, she had zoned off, written mentally ten inches of her History of Magic essay and decided exactly what they would cover in their first study group session. When she finally regained attention, she wished she had not. Ron threatened not to talk ever again to her since she clearly preferred her new serpentine _friends_. Ron could be very thick, insensitive and short-sighted...

"Be my guest!" Hermione snapped, angrily, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. "If that's how much you value our friendship, I'm glad you're sparing me from any future disappointments!"

This time she was not going to shed any tears whatsoever.

On Thursday afternoon, Hermione left the Great Hall table quietly, went to the library and arrived there at two o' clock sharp. Daphne, Blaise and Theo were sitting at a large table by one of the windows and talking in muttered tones with lowered heads. Swallowing hard, tilting her head up and summoning her courage, she walked towards them and greeted the trio politely. They eyed her with curious glances as though not sure if she was going to come. Hermione pulled a chair and let out a heavy sigh.

She did not need to worry. The afternoon passed by rather calmly and they spent almost three hours reviewing basic potion preparations that they had learned during their first year. If it were not her reservations about Slytherin students in general, she would even admit that she had enjoyed their company.

Hermione noticed that Blaise was the most talkative of the bunch and had remarks and quips for every situation – though he refrained from talking ill about Harry or Ron in respect of Hermione. Daphne, on the other hand, wrote down everything that Hermione explained, always waving her head frenetically and with a thunderstruck expression in her face. Theodore, however, was the quiet and observing one and, as a result, the most difficult to read. His nods were almost imperceptible, but Hermione noticed his façade waver a couple of times. His stoic demeanor reminded her of Draco, but in a different way. Perhaps it was the lack of those aristocratic features and sharp lines. Or perhaps it was because he, unlike Draco, had actually allowed himself to associate with someone like her. Yet, Hermione did not know if he cared about being there with her or not.

"Looks like you've just gotten yourself two bodyguards," Blaise observed, clearly amused, nodding towards the entrance; Harry and Ron entered the library and were glaring pointedly at the quartet. Their clenched fists felt like they were about to grab Hermione and drag her back to the Gryffindor common room. Ron's red ears were visible from a distance and so were Harry's squinted eyes. She contained the urge to scoff at what they considered a threatening behavior.

"They didn't want me to come here," she admitted, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"But that didn't stop you," Blaise smirked, raising one eyebrow and leaning forward with interest.

"As if someone was the boss of me," she snorted with a shrug and Daphne snickered. "But I must say I'm surprised. I didn't think you'd ask someone like _me _for help."

"Not all Slytherins are the same," Daphne explained bashfully, grabbing her leather backpack and starting to pack her belongings. "My family does not give a damn about blood purity. All they want is for me and my sister to marry respected and wealthy husbands," she clarified with a tired expression and Hermione's mind instantly traveled back to her mother, so she smiled in sympathy and understanding.

"And my family isn't considered a role model in the wizarding society. I mean, not when my dear mother has married seven husbands who all died mysteriously," Blaise added with a nonchalant tone that would have done the service were it not for the way his fists clenched slightly at that.

Nott sniggered and Hermione glanced at the boy, surprised at that reaction. He reciprocated her gaze with a scowl, as though challenging the girl to do something about him. Yes, he _really _reminded her of Draco and perhaps her reaction was obvious because Blaise said:

"And Theo here may even remind you of Draco in some aspects. I'm obviously not talking about their sneering ugly faces. Their parents are friends and treat their sons the same way," the Slytherin boy went on, cautiously and clearly leaving the specifics aside, while Nott glared at him.

"The difference is that I hate my prick of a father and could not care less about what he considers right or wrong," he said, shuddering in obvious indifference. He averted his eyes from Blaise to Hermione and stared at her with that stern expression once again. "Do you have something to say about that, _Granger_?"

"Why would I have something to tell about _your life_, _Nott_?" she countered, tilting her head to the side and refraining from rolling her eyes. Why did those boys always act so dramatically? "It's your business, not mine."

"Aren't you a lionhearted know-it-all Gryffindor with a great moral compass and a penchant for telling people how to behave?"

"Aren't you a cold-hearted, ruthless Slytherin with no regard whatsoever about other people and a penchant for behaving like a prat?"

"I see what you meant now, Daph," Nott grinned at Daphne, who beamed at him while Blaise muffled his amused chuckles. Hermione realized that she had been played at and apparently had passed the test. Instead of angry at their cunning behavior, she felt unexplainably lighter and let out a breath she had been holding for the entire afternoon.

"But won't the rest of Slytherin bother you if they learn you've been associating with me?" Hermione asked, biting on her lip and glancing sideways at the table where Ron and Harry were still throwing daggers at them. "Ron's threatened to stop being friends with me."

"Well, they'll probably learn very soon. Look who's just joined us," Daphne muttered, nodding to a certain blonde-haired, grey-eyed wizard who had just stepped into the library and had stopped mid-step. Hermione eyed him coolly and felt a bit of satisfaction at seeing how absolutely stunned he looked. _Serves you right_, she thought, tilting her head up and trying not to steal glances at him.

"Draco's not a bad person," Blaise, who had followed her gaze, mumbled. Malfoy was glued to the floor and absolutely dumbfounded; his mouth was partially open, and his face had acquired a greenish color. His eyes were travelling from Blaise to Theo and then to Daphne and Hermione as though he was waiting for one of them to yell '_We got you!'. _"He probably never treated you very well and what he called you certainly didn't help. But that's how he was raised. He worships that father of his in spite of how awful the man is. Theo here has known him forever and knows that Lucius is a dreadful person."

"He never really mentions home to us," Daphne told her, watching Draco with something close to sympathy. The boy had not moved and Hermione was sure she could see a vein throbbing in his temple and the gears working inside his blonde head. "He's not worse just because of his mother, _Narcissa_. Mum and her are friends. Narcissa is a good person, you know? Very cold on the outside, but very nice and caring. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand… Well, let's just say he went to our home about four times and even my Mum told me not to leave my room..."

"He hasn't admitted, of course, but he probably regrets what he told you," Blaise muttered, scratching his chin with a thoughtful expression. "Don't think he even realizes that, to be honest."

"I doubt it," Hermione quickly replied, clicking her tongue and eyeing them blankly. With another shrug, she lowered her eyes and focused very hard on her parchment. Daphne kept studying her face in silence and concealed a small smile that was threatening to dance in her lips. "I just hope he doesn't cause you any trouble."

"You Gryffindors are so weird," Theo scolded her after a minute holding back his tongue and looking bewildered. "We Slytherins have a simple rule. We protect our own. People will talk, stare, gossip, but won't do anything against us because we're Slytherins too. Our loyalty lies with ours above everything."

However, instead of the impolite reply she had at the tip of the tongue, Hermione's lips twitched upwards as a quick-witted answer blurted out.

"Merlin, Nott. Are you sure the Sorting Hat didn't consider placing you in Hufflepuff?" Hermione teased, grinning.

Daphne dropped her quill and Blaise muffled a low whistle, both of their eyes widening in surprise. Nott looked disconcerted at first, but quickly regained his composure and managed to summon a satisfied grin from somewhere.

"My, my, Granger, I suppose the Sorting Hat should've placed you in Slytherin, then," he replied, blushing but smirking anyway while Daphne and Blaise laughed openly.

Across the library, Draco Malfoy just kept watching that scene unfold.

_Embarrassment. Shame. Weakness. Stupidity. Failure._

And out of the confines of his mind came another feeling, one that he was beginning to get very familiar with when it came to Hermione Granger. _Jealously._

X

**A/N: **thank you everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed this story! Last chapter was purposely a much heavier one especially because I was still building the foundation upon which the next events will take place. I know it seems difficult to believe they will befriend, but they will though there's still quite a long road ahead of them. Thanks TeachMeToFly, JJ 003, PhiLi08 and Leena F for your reviews and I'm sorry last chapter is kind of sad.

This one is purposely lighter and the idea is to introduce you to some very special characters who will be very important as we move forward. I have grown very fond of them, especially Theo, thanks to great fanfictions out there. So I suppose this is my take at their friendship with Hermione and their participation in her relationship with Draco.


	10. The chamber

_"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." ― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934_

X

Draco spent the following weeks trying to come up with theories to understand why Granger had _befriended_ Daphne, Blaise and Theo, and all of them revolved around absurd conclusions. At first, he supposed it was a prank pulled on the Gryffindor girl by Nott and Zabini. Nevertheless, as the quarter kept meeting every Thursday afternoon, he then changed his mind and decided that they were pulling a prank on _him_. However, that was a very narcissistic conclusion even for someone like him. Against his better judgment, the only possible and desperate explanation was that Daphne had somehow become friends with Hermione during those ridiculous Potions assignments and had brought her almost-boyfriend and best friend to that stupid weekly gathering.

She was a Gryffindor bleeding heart, but they did not seem to care. She was friends with Potty and the Weasel, but they did not seem to care. She was a a muggleb- _mudblood_, but they did not seem to care. They did not seem to care about anything other than her brains, her generosity, her wittiness.

But Draco had arrived first. He had been the one with whom bushy-haired Hermione Granger had traveled in the Hogwarts Express. He had been the one with whom she had first practiced that stupid levitation charm. He had been the one to whom she had given first those ridiculous bluebell flames. Why did she have to be who she was, then?

The weather these days seemed to be trying to prove a point outside and was mimicking Draco's mood: gloomy, dark, with angry showers, and short-tempered thunderstorms. And as it always happens when we are desperate and confused, he kept going to that library every Thursday afternoon just to press the wound a little deeper, just to drown a little more in his misery, just so that _maybe this time_ he would find out why they were doing that. He had been making a point to arrive fifteen minutes before the unlike quartet bid their goodbyes – if he was going to be that pathetic, he could at least do it with some dignity.

Potter and Weasley were always there as well in a pathetic attempt at intimidating Granger. They kept glowering at the four students and making remarks in hissed tones while the brunette simply huffed impatiently and ignored them – she was never the one to be intimidated by stares. In that thundering afternoon, however, Draco was feeling a small spark of satisfaction as he witnessed Hermione telling off the ginger tumor as he yet_ again_ threatened to stop talking to her if she did not quit hanging out with the Slytherins.

"Dear Merlin, Ron. How old are you again?" she asked in a bored tone, drumming her fingers on the table, absentmindedly.

"They are Slytherins! No good witch or wizard has ever come from Slytherin!"

"You don't really read, Ron, do you?"

"Hermione, you can't possibly think that they like _you_!"

"Why not?" Hermione countered, eyebrows creased. She closed the book with a thud and eyed the boy pointedly. Draco could see from behind the bookshelves how she went from casual indifference to anger in just a millisecond.

"Because!" the Weasel was saying, his face red in an obvious effort to find words to describe her crime, unaware of how Hermione had puffed up her chest and was glaring at him in such a patronizing way that Draco felt a smirk playing on his lips immediately. For some reason, that was getting more entertaining than he had anticipated.

"Because of what, _Ronald_?" she insisted in a slow, but dangerously high-pitched tone, her arms folded indignantly.

"Ron, maybe we should go. Hermione apparently knows what she's doing." Potter tried in a shocking display of reasonableness, gulping at the hard expression in Granger's otherwise kind-looking face. Even from a distance, it was very obvious that she was on the verge of hexing the ginger into the other century. However, Weasley was dumber than Draco had given him credit for and ignored the cue – much like one would ignore an elephant waltzing into Diagon Alley's cobblestoned streets.

"You bloody well know why!" he seethed, fuming.

"Do us a favor, alright? Just stop talking before you say something you'll regret. Or rather, stop talking before you say something that'll make _me_ regret ever befriending you," the girl said through gritted teeth. Weasley stepped back and bumped into a chair, swallowing hard. He had finally realized the way Granger was looking at him and perhaps wondering if he wanted to revive the howler his mother had sent him weeks before. "Just leave me alone."

Draco, who was eavesdropping the entire conversation, muffled a chuckle. He had to admit that watching Hermione Granger scold those two twats was absolutely amusing and strangely Slytherin-esque. In the middle of his amusement, however, he did not realize her sudden change in demeanor: her shoulders dropped and she hid her face on her hands, sniffing. When Draco finally averted his eyes back to her, his smile dropped at once.

"You shouldn't waste your time on those two morons," he remarked, stopping by at her desk and looking down on the girl. She placed a hand over her heart, clearly startled at his sudden apparition.

"As if you don't agree with them," she scoffed, raising her glistening eyes and giving him a cool expression. How she managed to summon that fiercely determined attitude every time was puzzling to say the least – not that he would ever admit it, of course.

"At least I've got the balls to admit it," retorted Malfoy, stoically.

"Is that supposed to comfort me?"

"I am just making an observation. I wouldn't read too much into this if I were you."

"You're right, Malfoy. Why would I insist on making assumptions about you?

They stared at each other with measuring looks, each of them pondering the meaning of that question. But Hermione did not seem to wait for an answer for she quickly added:

"And by the way, why the hell were you eavesdropping?"

"Just looking for a book," he clarified in his typical drawled voice, leafing through a book nonchalantly as if to prove his point and eager to avoid any _serious_ conversation with that know-it-all bookworm. "Why are you hanging out with _my friends_?"

"_Your friends?_" Hermione snickered and raised her brows, condescendingly. Draco flushed and chastised himself; that was a very moronic thing to say. That conversation seemed to be going downhill but he strangely did not feel like stepping back _just yet_. "And we're not hanging out, Malfoy, we're studying. Does that make them less worthy of being your _friends_ when they spend so much time with _scum_ like me?"

"Always the know-it-all, aren't you?" his eyes scanned her up and down and he folded his arms with a presumptuous grin.

"Maybe you should join Harry and Ron. They seem to loathe me as much as you do nowadays."

There was obvious a hint of disappointment and sadness in her remark in spite of her stubborn and defiant tone. Realization dawned upon him for the briefest of seconds and it crossed Draco's mind to tell her that he in fact did not loathe her, but that thought made him cringe on the inside. But then her words at Diagon Alley clouded his mind and as quick as wisps of smoke, the tendrils of sympathy washed away.

"Not even _that _would make me associate with them, _Granger._"

"Granger? I thought you had another word to address me nowadays. But I suppose it is more fun to say it out loud when there's an audience to entertain."

Hermione studied him silently and Draco reciprocated the gaze just as fiercely, ignoring her insightful comment.

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you, _Granger_, looking for a book. You aren't the only one who's got Transfiguration homework, you know?" he added, peering at the essay she had been working on before Weasley's dramatic interruption and realizing she had predictably added eight more inches than what they had been had asked.

"Really?" she gave him a knowing look, curling her lips and leaning back on her chair, a roguish expression forming in her face. "Then you should return that book back to the shelves, Malfoy. Unless you suddenly decided to venture yourself in the world of domestic transfiguration, of course."

Draco glanced at book in his hands. '_Taming your household in twenty-five lessons'._ _Fucking hell! _Feeling embarrassed at his own stupidity, Malfoy sneered at the girl, who gave him a mischievous smirk that rivalled even his most condescending expression. Fuming and ignoring how he much preferred that stupid Gryffindor girl mocking him than looking so downcast, he smashed the book over her desk and stormed off the library.

He wished that was the last time he would ever think of that bushy-haired, bucktoothed know-it-all. But seeing her work in harmony with Daphne every Potions class, or listening to Blaise and Theo mention how much they had improved thanks to her help was infuriating. At Hallowe'en's eve, Draco realized he had had enough of that and decided to have a serious conversation with his _friends_.

"What are you up to with Granger?" he blurted out, arms folded and lips pressed together so thinly that they were outdoing Minerva McGonagall _modus operandi_.

Blaise and Theo exchanged a meaningful glance. Daphne, who was writing a letter to her family, raised her hazel eyes, gaped at them for some seconds and then lowered her head, shaking it in disbelief.

"It was Daph's idea," Blaise answered, slowly, glancing at his nails matter-of-factly "But it was a great idea, as far as I'm concerned. Snape's not hissing in our necks anymore, Finnigan and Thomas let us do all work and don't screw up anything. Besides, we are in _very good terms_ with other Houses, just like Dumbledore's always preached," he added with a half-smile that made Draco close his fists at once.

"As if you do _anything_ without any ulterior motives," Draco barked, squinting his eyes. There was a slight flush to his face as he scanned their expressions and tried to control the urge to give both of them a shove.

"Maybe you don't know us that well, Draco," Zabini suggested, eyebrows raised.

"Listen here, you two pricks, just tell me why the hell you're doing that," he threatened in a hiss.

"Or what?" Theo snapped, fed up with that pointless conversation. He tilted his chin up in the air and then lowered his tone to nothing more than a whisper. "Are you gonna owl my Father? Quit talking to us?"

"I wouldn't sink that lower," Draco retorted, dryly. "I'm not like those two bloody morons."

"Then leave us alone," Theo shrugged, impatiently, as if that decided the matter.

"You can't just think that's normal! You bloody well know what she is!" the boy tried once more, throwing his hands up in the air, and ignoring that small voice in the back of his head that claimed he was acting just like Ronald Weasley.

"We do and we don't care," Daphne countered, sitting beside Theo and clutching his hand absentmindedly. The boy watched their clasped hands silently, his eyebrows creasing. Theo would not admit, but he still had some reservations about Granger, though they were getting smaller and smaller every Thursday afternoon. "And it'd do you well if you didn't care about it too," she then added in a muttered tone, locking eyes with Draco. He fidgeted uncomfortably and focused very hard on pulling his best sneer so that his cheeks did not flush at Daphne's suggestive tone. It was obvious that the girl was suspicious that something was askew.

"If that's bothering you so much, Draco, maybe you should be smarter and pluck up some courage," Blaise sentenced misteriously and it was clear that that conversation had ended.

Draco dragged himself back to the dorms without another word to the trio, who merely exchanged some silent glances before engaging in a game of Explosive Snap. He ignored Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced and petty Slytherin girl who kept trying to get his attention all the time. He ignored Crabbe and Goyle, who were gesturing dumbly as though wanting to share the latest prank they had pulled on the first-year students. Rather than any of that, Draco sank his head onto his pillow and pulled the covers of his bed violently, almost ripping them apart with that gesture. Feeling more tired than ever and still without a clue as to what to do, he tried to ignore his churning stomach.

_What should I do?_

Draco spent Hallowe'en in a quiet and sullen mood. His gaze involuntarily traveled to the Gryffindor table, searching for a certain bushy-haired brunette. He dismissed his friends and Quidditch practice, and barely touched any food; he suspected he might not be able to stomach even a glass of pumpkin juice. His head was so clouded and in the middle of that thunderstorm were pieces of his conversation with Hermione and Lucius Malfoy.

_She's a mudblood. She's a mudblood. You know what they are, Draco, and you know they are not entitled of their magic, those treacherous thieves. You know your place and Granger should know hers. That little liar. She does not belong in this world. She's scum, she's an insolent abhorrence and a freak._

Everything Lucius had taught him over twelve years made his head throb painfully. Draco had never talked back to his Father about that. He had not even asked his Mother whether she believed that too, because Narcissa had never said a word about muggles, mudbloods, blood traitors and half-bloods back home. Draco knew that one of his aunts had eloped and married a mudblood, but no one talked about that. He had never asked his Father how he knew those things. He had never looked for evidence to support those claims about muggles, mudbloods, squibs and half-bloods. He had simply believed in Lucius. He only wanted to please his Father. All he had done was listen and keep his head down.

But now there was someone challenging all of those preconceptions. Why did he suddenly want to rethink everything he had learned? Why did he not believe in her inferiority as strongly as before? Why were his convictions being tested so mercilessly?

_Why_? _Why? Why?_

And as if that day had been designed to torment him, Draco saw himself after Hallowe'en Feast standing in the middle of a flooded corridor and staring at Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, petrified and hanging by her tail from a torch bracket. In the middle of that commotion were Potter, Weasley and Granger. The latter was rather pale, her amber eyes reflecting the water puddles. When they locked their eyes, Draco saw something he had never seen there: _fear_.

He could see her chest go up and down as she watched the petrified cat and Draco realized he could not stomach that. When he averted his eyes, however, they landed in something even more disturbing. There, painted in scarlet red in something that looked remarkably like blood, was a sentence that sent shivers down his spine. _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware_.

The teachers rushed the students back to their Houses, Filch pointed a stinky finger at the Gryffindor trio and accused Potter. Draco saw none of that.

He was back to the first day of his summer holidays replaying the threat seethed by his Father. _Times have unfortunately changed and we are no longer entitled to voice this truth freely. But perhaps the good old times are coming back and justice will be done. And when justice is done, these creatures like this Hermione Granger will no longer be around us and they will know exactly where they belong. Mudbloods, blood traitors and muggle lovers. All of them will face justice – and they will face it soon. _It traveled even farther to that one time many years ago when Lucius Malfoy had told him the tale of the Chamber of Secrets and how a mudblood had been killed back then.

Draco swallowed hard. The next second, his gaze landed on Granger. And then he was back to that last conversation they had had.

_I thought you had another word to address me nowadays. But I suppose it is more fun to say it out loud when there's an audience to entertain._

Head spinning, lungs tight, Draco could no longer brace himself. He _had _to do something. But what? What exactly could he do? Feeling as if he did not control his body and his words anymore, he blurted out.

"Enemies of the heir, beware! You should watch your back, _Granger_."

That was the best he could do. He only hoped she would understand.

X

**A/N:** thank you everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. It was very fun to write especially because I am very biased towards Slytherin/Gryffindor friendships being both Gryffindor and Slytherin myself. No, but really, though Pottermore placed me at Gryffindor, I can definitely see some Slytherin nuances in myself. Thank you Mary Norton, foreverathogwarts, PhiLi08 and Leena F for your lovely reviews and encouragement to move forward. A lot of Draco and Hermione, right? He's still very confused and you can imagine how this whole Chamber of Secrets episode is going to make it even worse. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the way Draco begins to deal with his confusion as he grows.


	11. The plan

_"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." ― E.E. Cummings_

X

Fortunately, Mrs. Norris's petrification did not get Hermione, Harry and Ron into any trouble, although both Filch and Snape were adamant on making Dumbledore blame the three of them, especially Harry. Yet, even in the face of something so disturbing, it was actually Draco's words which had entangled Hermione's mind in their vines, and they were constricting her brains so hard that every single thought made her head throb agonizingly.

_Enemies of the heir, beware! You should watch your back, _Granger.

She kept replaying his words over and over again because they simply did not fit. There were people around them. There was an audience. And yet, he had called her _Granger._ He had not used that word. He had not called her _that_. If anything, he had _warned_ her, hadn't he? Did he know what was going on? _Did he care_?

No, that was absolutely impossible. Draco hated her, despised her, and could not bear her presence or what she represented. He loathed everything she was. She was mistaken. She had to be! She was being delusional once again and getting carried away by that unexplainable connection she felt about him.

Hermione felt so confused that such an unsettling event had triggered yet another set of conflicting thoughts involving Draco Malfoy. Apparently, the depths of her mind had made their mission to search for an answer to that conundrum and would not cease to trouble her until they found it. She felt helpless and all she could do was wait.

Nonetheless, they had more pressing matters. Hermione had tried to read about the Chamber of Secrets, but she had left her volume of _Hogwarts, a History _back home because it did not fit into her trunk with those ridiculous books Lockhart had asked them to buy. Every single volume had been checked out from the library in light of the latest episodes, which meant that they had nowhere to go. The only alternative that they had was to persuade some teacher to tell them the tale of the Chamber of Secrets without causing any particular commotion. That meant resorting to someone who did not care about them _and_ knew History of Magic.

"Professor Binns, Sir, could you please tell us the tale of the Chamber of Secrets?"

It had not been difficult to persuade him. With just the right amount of flattering and a natural interest in History of Magic, Hermione had convinced him almost at once. Unfortunately, it had also made an unfortunate realization dawn upon her.

"Well, let's think this straight," Ron had his brows wrinkled in deep concentration hours later at the Gryffindor Common Room. "The Chamber houses a monster that kills muggleborns and was created by Salazar Slytherin. Who do we know that hates muggles and muggleborns, is a Slytherin and connected to the Dark Arts?"

"Malfoy," Harry responded promptly and Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the couch as another set of thoughts regarding Draco Malfoy dragged her stomach to the bottom.

Was Draco the heir of Slytherin after all? Was his hatred for muggleborns so powerful that he would dare release a creature to kill them all? Had he warned Hermione just to avoid any suspicions? Because he had warned her, hadn't he? Or had he been trying to ease up his own conscience? She replayed that scene over and over again and tried to find an answer, a small flicker of his eyes, the faintest sign of sympathy in his tone, the slightest tremble of his hands. But there was nothing – just the same aristocratic features, the same drawled tone, the same arrogant straightening of his back.

But he had called her Granger.

Hermione thought, thought and thought, but could not find any answer. It was ludicrous to even consider that a second-year student would commit such an atrocity, but Hermione had heard what both Ron and Theo (in different moments) had said about Lucius Malfoy. The son was probably just following his steps – as usual.

But he had called her Granger.

"We need to make Malfoy spit it out," Harry stated, watching Hermione intently. Their eyes connected and Hermione averted them to Ron, wondering for a crazy second whether Harry suspected what was going on in her mind.

"We can't just talk to him and ask away," Hermione answered, biting on her lips and pondering Harry's suggestion for a minute.

"Do you have a plan?" Harry tried, sitting at the edge of the couch, his glasses sparkling as the flames frolicked inside the fireplace.

She had already devised one, of course, but needed further evidence before presenting it to her friends. They would probably break over fifty School rules and face grave danger, so she needed a solid case. She needed to talk to the serpent before getting into the serpent's lair. She needed to talk to Malfoy.

"No," she lied to Harry without stuttering. _She_ needed more time.

After three whole days in which her brain had swollen painfully against her skull, Hermione finally had her chance. Malfoy was fortunately a creature of habits, which meant that every Thursday he arrived at the library precisely fifteen minutes before Hermione, Daphne, Theo and Blaise finished studying Potions. He was clearly eager to avoid them, but also keen to check if they were still keeping their study group. Hermione actually found that very amusing if not a bit bothersome – it was uncannily similar to the strategy Harry and Ron had been employing as well, but he would probably rather die before admitting it. All she had to do was wait five minutes and then make a beeline to a certain blonde-headed boy hiding behind one of the farthest bookshelves.

"Malfoy," Hermione said shortly, her arms crossed.

Draco jerked his neck to the side, shock etched in every corner of his face. Hermione could not help but feel a bit of satisfaction at his obvious bewilderment; after all, he had done the same thing to her some time ago. Nonetheless, that feeling was suppressed as soon as her mind concentrated on the reason why she was there.

Meanwhile, Draco's brain was fighting something he truly hoped was not a lost battle. Forehead slightly creased, he searched Hermione's face for a sign that would give in what she was doing there. However, she seemed completely impassible and the veiled expression in her amber eyes was one that made him extremely unsettled. Granger usually wore her heart on her sleeve – it was plainly evident whenever she was annoyed, angry, thoughtful, tense, sad, fearful and even perfectly content. Not that he would ever admit being aware of any of that, of course. In that very moment, however, her face was blank – and so was his mind.

"What do you want? Have you come to convince me to join your little study group?" he snarled, dryly, and then folded his arms with impatience.

"Of course. Do you want to join my little study group?" she asked, blinking rapidly and looking straight into his grey eyes.

The shock seemed to have been too much for Draco to handle. He dropped his arms to the side and gaped at her, bug-eyed, his mouth hanging open like a fish and making him look as innocent as he had at that first train ride to Hogwarts. Hermione bit her tongue to muffle a chuckle at the way his lips moved as if repeating her words under his breath. She allowed herself to savor that sight for one full minute before finally giving in and grinning mischievously at the boy. His eyes narrowed at once and that sneer he always summoned to address her was back to his otherwise handsome face.

"I am glad you find me so amusing, Granger," he grunted, flaring his nostrils so pointedly that Hermione thought he might start breathing fire on her.

"It was a _little_ amusing," she admitted, blithely, while he exhaled deeply and clenched his fists, looking positively wrathful. "I would have expected a resounding _No_ for an answer, however, not a brain freeze."

"I thought you had stopped making assumptions about me," he sneered, but Granger had recuperated her sphinxlike expression and did not seem to mind his antics.

"Why did you tell me _that_?"

_Shit_.

It took every fiber in his body to summon a deadpan expression to his face.

_Why did I say that? Why did I care? Why did I do that?_

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, straightening his back and looking down on the girl with contempt, while she just crossed her arms further as if not buying an ounce of his explanation. "If you've come here to annoy me with this pointless conversation, I suggest you leave me alone and go find that brainless duo you call friends."

"Shut up, Malfoy," she retorted, heatedly, abandoning that dismissive tone at once. "You warned me. You can pretend you don't know or don't remember, but I do know, I do remember and I know exactly what you did. Why did you do that?"

"I did nothing," he said through gritted teeth as heat went up his neck and began flushing his cheeks.

"You know something about the Chamber of Secrets! Just tell me what you know!"

Draco wanted to snap his fingers and turn himself into dust. Why had he done that? Why had he uttered that bloody warning and exposed himself so goddamn hard? Why had he been so weak? Of course Hermione Granger would put two and two together being that ridiculous know-it-all that she was! Of course she would look past his seemingly threatening words and unveil his warning. And of course she would dig even a little deeper and assume he knew something about the Chamber of Secrets! He had been so stupid, so weak, so careless. He should not have taken that risk, he should have kept quiet and let Granger be unaware of the grave danger she was likely going to face.

Instead, he had thought of Lucius Malfoy's cold grey eyes and venom-laced voice. He had thought of her amber eyes and the pleading, regretful tone of her voice as she recalled how he had called her a mudblood in front of everyone.

And now, not only did she think he _cared_ about her, but also that he knew something about the Chamber of Secrets. He had jeopardized _everything_ and given that annoying, prying little girl the impression that he actually gave a damn about her when he absolutely and most definitely _hated her_. That was it.

But he would not make the same mistake again. He had to push he away. Fast.

"The only thing I know is that whatever is inside that Chamber is going after the likes of you," he blurted out, narrowing his eyes. Every word was punctuated with venom, derision and scorn. "Watch your back, mudblood. That's the last time I'm going to tell you that."

That was it. Now she would leave him alone. This time he would not call her Granger.

"Why do you have to be this way?" she muttered in a weak little voice. Her defiant stance had melted off in a millisecond as her shoulders dropped and a dejected expression took over every corner of her face.

He realized with a pang on his chest that her amber eyes had lost their color. He also realized immediately that he had screwed up _everything_.

Draco had never seen someone look so disappointed and crestfallen. Part of him wanted to take back his words as soon as she averted her glazed eyes and ran off the library, ignoring the reproving look of Madam Pince. The other part of him was adamant on convincing himself that that was the only possible outcome of that situation. He could not afford to jeopardize anything and disappoint his Father once more for someone like her, especially for someone like her. He could not risk whatever he was risking by wanting to talk to her, be friends with her. He could not risk everything he had been raised to be for someone like her. He couldn't.

Why couldn't he? Why did he feel even worse?

Hermione, on the other hand, had never felt so stupid and naïve. She had mistaken his words. He had not wanted to warn her. He was taunting her – just like he always did. He was showing her inferiority – just like he always did. He was merely putting her where she belonged – just like he always did. He did not care. If anything, he _craved_ for her to be one of the victims. How could she ever think he _cared_ about her? Why did she think he was capable of any sympathy? Why did she think they would ever be friends?

This time he had not called her Granger.

Drying her tears on the back of her sleeves, she kept running through the corridors and hoping to find Harry and Ron as soon as possible, praying for that horrible feeling to go away. Disappointment – again. Rejection – again. Shame – again. Pain – again. All Draco had ever caused her was that and nothing more than that.

Except for that bloody train ride over one year ago. The first time she had ever felt truly happy because it was the first time she had ever felt like she truly belonged somewhere. Back when he had not called her a mudblood or even Granger. Back when he had called her Hermione. Back when she thought they were going to be friends.

But dwelling in the past would not do any well. They needed to execute that plan and they needed to do it quick.

"I know how we're going to make Malfoy talk. We're going to brew the Polyjuice Potion."

X

**A/N:** thank you everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. Thank you JJ 003, Leena F and TeachMeToFly. I hope you guys are not disappointed that Draco is still being a brat to Hermione, but as I said before, growth takes time and sometimes it takes a particular episode to put things in perspective. Let's just say that this moment is going to come very, very soon. But until then, I am sorry to break your Dramione's hearts with another hot/cold situation. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know your thoughts.


	12. The potion

_"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be." ― Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night_

X

However, brewing the Polyjuice Potion turned out to be a very complicated feat. After another dose of flattering and batting eyelashes, Hermione managed to get Lockhart's permission slip to check Moste Potente Potions out of the Restricted Section. Later, she realized that it would take them a month to complete the preparation and that they would need some ingredients that Snape kept in his private stores. Nothing that she could not solve quickly and ingeniously, of course. Harry and Ron had looked dumbfounded at her dismissive tone as she told them how she had broken into Snape's office under Harry's invisibility cloak and _borrowed_ those ingredients. They had been so shell-shocked at that revelation that Hermione had spotted Ron pinching his own arm to make sure he was not imagining anything.

She had to admit that being a bit rebellious felt great.

"Why are we doing this at the girls' lavatory?" the ginger boy asked minutes later, nose wrinkled in obvious disgust.

"No one comes here. It's haunted by the Moaning Myrtle," Hermione answered without looking at the boy as she stirred the cauldron with her brows creased.

"Who?"

Ron spent the rest of the day glaring at Hermione after finding out who Moaning Myrtle was.

The urgency in completing the preparation of the Polyjuice Potion skyrocketed a few days later when another attack occurred. This time, the victim was a Gryffindor first-year student named Colin Creevey. He had tried to enter the Hospital Wing to take pictures of Harry, who had been sent there after losing all bones in his arm when Gilderoy Lockhart had attempted to fix it as a result of a rogue bludger he had taken during the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry was there when they had brought the little boy and overheard Professor Albus Dumbledore confirm that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened _again_.

"_Again_?" Ron repeated, horrified, his pale face contrasting strikingly with his ginger hair. "That means they've opened before! I bet Lucius Malfoy did it before and now he's taught his son how to do it!"

Although Ron was not a very a sensitive fruit, Hermione had to admit that he had a point.

Things seemed to be going downhill as weeks went by. In order to teach the students how to prepare themselves to face the monster that inhabited the Chamber of Secrets, Lockhart had started a Duelling Club. Severus Snape would be participating as well, probably plotting to expose how lame their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was. Against their own will, the Gryffindor trio signed in and Snape chose to keep the same pairs that the students were assigned in their Potions class much to Hermione's joy and Harry and Ron's disgust.

"This is pathetic," Hermione pointed out after disarming Daphne very easily. She was tapping her foot on the floor with some annoyance and putting together a mental checklist of things she would rather be doing in that very moment.

"Don't tell me you don't fancy Lockhart anymore," Daphne teased, snatching her wand back and biting on her lips to muffle a snigger.

"Shut up," the Gryffindor girl said very quickly, flushing. "Hey, Daph, will you be staying here for Christmas?"

"No, we're going somewhere in France, I guess. Theo and Blaise are not staying as well, if you're wondering. You?"

"I'm staying. My parents wanted to go skiing, but I'm not a fan."

"Skiing?"

"You go downhill with these boards attached to your feet. It's quite boring, actually, but my parents have been trying to convince me for years…"

"That's so weird."

"So is flying on broomsticks."

"If I didn't know you any better, Hermione, I'd say you despise absolutely everything you're incompetent at."

"Ha-ha," Hermione snorted, narrowing her eyes bitterly, and Daphne took the chance to disarm the girl very sneakily. "You're a Slytherin through and through, Daph."

"Thank you very much," she preened under Hermione's disapproving gaze, tossing her honey-blonde hair over her shoulders

"Do you know if Malfoy's staying as well?" she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant and casual tone.

"Draco?" the slender Slytherin girl repeated with her brows creased as Hermione glanced at her nails. "I guess so. I think I heard him trying to convince Vincent and Gregory to stay. His parents are traveling abroad too. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering if I'm going to bump into his arrogant self," she clarified at once with a shrug, but avoiding Daphne's eyes all the same.

"Of course, Hermione, keep telling that to yourself. But if it's any consolation, they're the only Slytherins staying this Christmas."

However, a massive commotion prevented Hermione from asking Daphne what she had meant with that statement.

"Why didn't you mention you were a parselmouth?" Hermione questioned in a horrified tone some time later in the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry had begun seething and hissing when a snake conjured by Draco Malfoy started making its way to a Hufflepuff student named Justin Finch-Fletchley. He had been meaning to save the Hufflepuff boy, but the message could not have been interpreted more differently.

Harry Potter apparently had never realized he could speak parseltongue and Hermione truly believed him. The problem was that everyone else did not, and they actually thought that _he_ of all people was the heir of Slytherin just because he had defeated the Dark Lord. People could be really thick sometimes, she thought to herself. That belief achieved epic proportions that same night when Justin Finch-Fletchley was found petrified alongside the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly-Headless Nick. That took a heavy toll on them because not only Harry Potter was now connected to every single petrification, but also had a _talent _that everyone frowned upon. Besides Dumbledore, Hagrid, Hermione and Ron, the only people who believed he was innocent were the Weasley twins, which strutted around the corridors saying things like "_Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through_" or "_Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged friend_". Unfortunately, those jokes did not make their Polyjuice Potion brew any faster.

As planned, they ended up completing that task during the Christmas Holidays, which meant that they had a very small window to talk to Malfoy. Hermione had stolen Slytherin uniforms and two small cupcakes, which were now filled with a very powerful Sleeping Draught that they had learned how to brew the week before the Holidays. Harry and Ron had placed the two cupcakes on the exit way of the Great Hall and Crabbe and Goyle had devoured them with a single bite. Now, both boys were locked inside a broom closet in the second floor with a few less strands of hair.

"You're really scary," Ron muttered, tossing the strands of hair in his potion with a scowl; his potion resembled a mix of clay and concrete and smelled absolutely disgusting. "Brilliant, but scary."

"Do you remember the plan?" Hermione asked with some anxiety, staying on her tiptoes. She was obviously not going to accompany them because no Slytherin girls had stayed behind for Christmas.

"Find Malfoy and make him talk," Harry summed up, drinking his potion and shivering.

"You have one hour," she remembered them. _It'll be alright_, she thought with confidence. She just did not know exactly what she hoped to be alright or perhaps she did and absolutely hated herself for still holding on to those ridiculous hopes.

Draco was going back to the Slytherin dungeons by himself. _Where are those two, Crabbe and Goyle_? He did not want to stay there for Christmas, but his parents had traveled to Russia and would be staying there for over a month. That turned out to be an enormous setback to his plans of investigating whatever Lucius Malfoy knew about the Chamber of Secrets. Not to mention that staying in Malfoy Manor with his house elves was not an option, in spite of how helpful and kind they were. As a result, he had managed to persuade his friends to stay there as well to ease how pathetic the idea of staying behind in that almost-empty castle made him feel. However, those two had disappeared and he had an inkling suspicion that they were still at the Great Hall stuffing their stomachs even more.

"There you are," he snorted a few minutes later, after finally locating the duo in the middle of a corridor that led to the Slyhterin dungeons. "Where have you been? Didn't you have enough during the feast? Come on, that stupid Weasley is patrolling the corridors with his girlfriend and probably looking for an excuse to give us some detentions."

They walked quietly to the Slytherin Common Room. Maybe that was what Draco enjoyed the most about Crabbe and Goyle: they barely talked, asked very little and cared even less. Persuading them was relatively easy as none of them had any ambitions as far as he knew and seemed to really want to please him. Now, they were sitting comfortably in their Common Room. Draco felt very comfortable there: though the place did not look very inviting and was much colder than the other places thanks to its location below the Great Lake, the soft leather couches right in front of the enormous fireplace were among his favorite places in Hogwarts.

"Aren't you going to sit?" Draco asked them with little patience, frowning at their expressions – vaguer and more distracted than usual.

"Why did you stay back in Hogwarts again?" Crabbe gaped at the boy.

"How many times do I have to tell you why?" Draco snapped, rolling his eyes and crisping his lips. "My parents went to Russia and will be back in a month. Of course I didn't want to stay back in this bloody school, not when it is going to the gutters. Have you heard the last one? That pathetic excuse of a Headmaster didn't do anything about Saint Potter! But I spoke to Father and if these attacks carry on, Dumbledore will be sacked!" the boy said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Really?" Crabbe countered, leaning forward, mouth hanging open, but Malfoy was not paying attention to him. He was savoring the perspective of a Dumbledore-free School.

"You know, I'm surprised that the Daily Prophet hasn't done a report on all these attacks. I suppose Dumbledore is trying to hush it all up. Father always said Dumbledore was the worst thing that ever happened to this place."

"You're wrong!" Goyle exclaimed at once and vehemently, squeezing his fists, his knuckles going white.

"What?" Draco retorted, sitting at the edge of the couch and giving the boy a stern look of utter disbelief. Crabbe shrank a bit on his settee while Goyle looked overly dumbfounded and even a bit shocked at his slip. "What? You think there's someone here who's worse than Dumbledore? Well, do you?"

"Harry Potter," the boy stammered after some seconds, swallowing hard and Crabbe shook his head in agreement.

"Good one, Goyle. You're absolutely right. Saint Potter. And people actually think that he's the Heir of Slytherin?" Draco snickered and then sneered at the duo as though challenging them to disagree with him.

"Well, then, you must have some idea who's behind it all," Goyle pressed on, flexing his chubby knuckles and gulping another time.

"I've already told both of you twice that I don't know anything!" Draco hissed, impatiently. "Merlin, do you two even remember anything at all?"

And Draco really did not know anything. He suspected that Lucius Malfoy was involved thanks to his veiled threats and past endeavors, but he had no way to prove that theory. His Father had not been in Hogwarts during the time of the attacks and had never mentioned what lied in the Chamber of Secrets. All he had done was share the tale and what had happened last time the chamber had been opened. All he had done was threat Hermione Granger, but that had been because she had gotten better marks, right? He had always threatened mudbloods, hadn't he? Draco's frustration only grew as his internal turmoil ensued. Should he tell his suspicions? If so, to whom? What good would come of it? Wouldn't it cause even more trouble? But what if someone died? Would it be his fault? But what if his Father found out? Wouldn't _he_ be killed, then?

_No, that's not possible, I don't know _anything! _I'm just imagining things. These are just theories, farfetched theories. Father did not tell me anything he hadn't mentioned before. He's always threatened mudbloods. _She_'s not in danger. She's just a nosy Gryffindor, a mudblood, and that's it! These are just coincidences. I don't know anything! And there's nothing I can do!_

"Malfoy?" Crabbe and Goyle called him from very far.

Draco, ever so skillful at compartmentalizing, managed to summon a stoic demeanor to conceal his bursting insides. For good measure, he clenched his fists just to make sure the slight tremble of his hands stood far from their curious eyes.

"Listen, you two dunderheads. The only thing I know other than what Binns told us is that the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a _muggleborn_ died. I don't know who did it, how they did it or where the hell this chamber is. But whatever lies in that place did what it wanted and killed a mudb- _muggleborn_."

Crabbe and Goyle glanced at each other, their faces going white, and swallowed hard.

"You're looking very weird," Draco told them, looking from one face to another and furrowing his eyebrows suspiciously. "What's going on?"

"Isn't there one in Gryffindor?" Goyle asked with a blank expression.

"One what?"

"A muggleborn."

Thus the reason why Draco felt on the verge of breakdown. Hermione. She was a likely victim, wasn't she? And he hated her, didn't he? And she was _nothing_, just a mudblood, wasn't she? And she meant absolutely nothing, didn't she? Because they were not friends, were they? They were _nothing_.

_But I don't want her to die_, he thought, scratching the nape of his neck as he tried to find a reasonable explanation to that ridiculous anxiety that was making his stomach she was not in danger, was she? And if she was, why would it be Draco's fault? There was nothing he could do. If that stupid Dumbledore couldn't protect his students, what exactly could Draco do? They were not friends, they did not like each other, they were _nothing_ to each other. She had other people to look after her. She had friends. And they were not friends, were they?

Why did he care, then? Why did he care about her?

"Yes, there is. And if Potty and the Weasel had two brain cells to rub in one another, they would take better care of Granger."

_Embarrassment. Shame. Weakness. Stupidity. Failure._

_I can only hope they do it_, he thought with a heavy sigh.

X

**A/N:** thank you everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter! I know it is a bit tiresome and frustrating to handle this back and forth between them, but the way I envision their budding relationship is really that slow. I want to stick to canon and fill it with these moments between Draco and Hermione that do not necessarily interfere with overall canon and instead show what could have happened while we were reading the books from Harry's point of view. So thank you to PhiLi08, Whit96, TeachMeToFly, Leena F, JJ 003 and pgoodrichboggs for your reviews. We are getting close to the end of the second year and I am sorry it took me a bit longer to post this chapter, but the next one is coming sooner. Also, I really did not want to make Hermione turn into a cat! I always hated that part about the books... So I hope you enjoy reading this chapter and Draco's internal turmoil. Please let me know your thoughts.


	13. The bouquet

_"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life:  
That word is love." ― Sophocles_

X

"Frankly, you two don't need to follow me everywhere I go."

Ever since Harry and Ron had talked to Malfoy under the effect of the Polyjuice Potion, Hermione no longer had a moment of peace. After learning that a muggleborn had been murdered the last time the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, Harry and Ron made a point of following her everywhere she went. Unfortunately, that included standing outside the girls' lavatory as two very embarrassed and reluctant bodyguards and embarking on another useless attempt to convince her to abandon her study group with Daphne, Theo and Blaise.

Yet, in spite of that shocking discovery, what had caught her attention the most were Draco's words to Ron and Harry – or rather, Crabbe and Goyle. Although they had failed at finding out who the heir of Slytherin was and had not stumbled upon any indications that Draco knew anything about those awful events, it was the boy's final words that were now banging inside Hermione's mind.

"_What did he say?"_

"_He told us that we should keep an eye on you, Hermione. Which seems to prove that he knows you're going to be one of the victims!" Ron had told her as he and Harry checked themselves upon the bathroom mirror to make sure that their transformations into Crabbe and Goyle had faded completely._

"_Ron's right, Hermione! He told us that a muggleborn was killed last time!"_

"_What did he say exactly?" she pressed on, ignoring Harry and Ron's exasperated expressions. Her heart was banging very fast inside her chest. "What were his exact words?"_

"_I've told you, Hermione, he told us as Crabbe and Goyle that we as Harry and Ron should take better care of you," Ron repeated, throwing the Slytherin robes on the floor with a grimace as though he felt tainted forever. "Are you sure I look normal again?"_

"_What did he call me? Did he use _that word_ again?" she ignored them._

"_No, he called you Granger," Harry responded, absentmindedly, oblivious to her small smile. "What difference does it make? He's still a foul git!"_

For Hermione, however, the difference was like day and night.

Days had gone by, Neville and Goyle had exploded their cauldrons in more than ten different ways, the cold, heavy wind had been replaced by a lighter, milder breeze, and Lockhart had finally moved on from the vampires he had allegedly killed to the werewolves he had supposedly tamed. Nonetheless, it was like time had no effect whatsoever over Hermione's mind. It was still stuck in those confusing reminiscences about Draco, memories that she tried to examine from a plethora of different standpoints and that always made her heart throb painfully in the end.

If only she could pause time until she figured out an answer to that conundrum…

They hated each other. They did not hate each other. He smiled at her. He sneered at her. He talked to her. He cursed her. He called her Granger. He called her a mudblood. He warned her. He lied to her. And then, once again, he seemed to at least acknowledge that she was in danger and should be looked after. In other words, he seemed to be implying that he actually cared about her.

And none of that made absolutely any sense whatsoever.

Hermione had been paying more and more attention to the pointed-face, blonde-haired Slytherin boy. For a crazy, but thankfully brief second, she had almost approached him once again. However, her courage – or perhaps, her stubbornness or even recklessness – had vanished as she remembered that last tim. She knew deep in her heart that she would not be able to stand his offensive words or cold sneers once again, in spite of how confused she felt.

She stood corrected: _why did he have to be that way?_

Daphne, Theo and Blaise had all described a tormented and confused boy, a product of a bad upbringing. And she knew that they were just children! But Draco Malfoy did not seem to possess the willingness, the courage or the cleverness to move past that prejudice and those awful preconceptions. If anything, he seemed to treasure them, cherish them, relish in she needed to push him into the right direction. Maybe she needed to hold her ground and show him a better way. Maybe she needed to fight back and show him a different world.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe she needed to have the willingness, the courage and the cleverness on his behalf.

_What should I do?_

But maybe she also just wanted to be a normal thirteen-year old for once in her life.

Life has so many unanswered questions and sometimes we just need to pluck up some courage to find the answers, because those answers will give life a meaning. But maybe courage doesn't simply happen unless you are _ready_ to face the answers to these unanswered questions. And at the end of the day, maybe it is those questions we ask that determine who we turn out to be.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"No, we don't _need_ to follow you everywhere, but we will. But what we really need to do is talk to Hagrid," Ron replied, ignoring Hermione's distracted demeanor.

"No, Ron, we cannot do that!" she retorted, finally regaining consciousness of her whereabouts and getting a grip on herself. They were standing in the middle of the courtyard and some students walked past them headint to the Quidditch pitch where there would be a match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor in less than one hour. "Look, we won't be able to prove anything and we _know_ that there's nothing to prove! Hagrid's our friend and he would have never opened the Chamber of Secrets! That Tom Riddle strikes me as someone who was just trying to frame him!"

"But Hermione…" Ron insisted in a shirked voice, glancing at Harry for support, but the boy seemed to be daydreaming about Quidditch.

"Look, Ron, let's think this in a logic way, shall we?" She began in a patient tone as though she was talking to two toddlers and explaining to them that they should behave and would be given sweets if they did so. "Harry found an old diary and, for some unfathomable reason, thought it was a clever idea to chat with an object that clearly reeked of dark magic."

"I didn't know it, alright?" Harry muttered, but his cheeks flushed anyway.

"The diary disappeared from the dorms, which can only indicate that either a Gryffindor student or someone who knew our password got inside and knew exactly where to look for the diary," she carried on very quickly as if Harry had not interrupted her at all. "The diary did not tell us anything we did not know, except that it accused someone we trust of opening the Chamber of Secrets. Now we finally know why Hagrid was expelled and if you ask my opinion, it was a very unfair reason and no one bothered to investigate it properly. These attacks have ceased for almost four months now in spite of your resolution in acting as my bodyguards. Soon, the Mandrake Restorative Draught will be ready and we can ask those people what happened to them. And you know what? It should not be that difficult. We have been dealing with spiders fleeing the castle, flooded corridors, petrified people, strangled roosters, a voice that only Harry can hear… and… and…"

_That's it!_

And just like that, Hermione was running like mad. She knew exactly what was going on.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron screamed while her figure disappeared from their sight. The girl did not seem to care about their concern and, reluctantly, they shrugged and resumed their way to the Quidditch pitch.

Half an hour later, Draco Malfoy saw himself also heading to the Quidditch Pitch. Slytherin was not playing, but he would not miss the opportunity to see Potter finally fall off his broom. Pansy Parkinson was attached to his arm, holding him so tightly as though she was afraid he would vanish. Maybe if he had a choice, he would. Crabbe and Goyle were meandering beside them; the former showcasing bald spots in his head thanks to his and Longbottom's latest Potions endeavor. Meanwhile, Theo and Daphne were holding hands behind them and Blaise, who was just after the couple, kept staring forward with his brows furrowed.

"What's the matter, Blaise?" Theo asked when the dark-skinned boy halted behind them.

"They're coming back," he answered in a low voice, indicating a mass of red and golden students leaving the Quidditch pitch with very confused expressions.

"What's going on?" Draco muttered. His ears started buzzing at once and everything appeared to be happening in slow motion. He could feel his heart pick up pace, and then he dropped Pansy's arm immediately.

_No, no, no, no, no! __Please don't let it be that, please don't let it be _her_!_

If his senses were not enough of an indication, he had confirmation of what had happened when his grey eyes landed on Professor McGonagall. She was rushing through the students, her usually composed and impassible face morphed into a horrified expression. Behind her, pale-faced and stunned, were Potter and Weasley. Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

His vision started tunneling. He could not feel any air coming in or out of his lungs. Suddenly, he did not even know where he was or what he was doing. Something was itching beneath his skin and spreading through his body. His body felt strangely swollen, but confusingly small at the same time. Draco's heart sunk in his chest and a terrible feeling he had never experienced before began crawling up and down his spine. Absolute fear.

_No, please don't let it be true. Please, don't let it be her. Please, please, please!_

"Draco?" Theo asked tentatively, glancing at Daphne and Blaise.

The boy did not answer. Opening his mouth seemed to be impossible in that very moment.

He barely registered walking back to the castle. He barely registered how Blaise almost dragged him across the courtyard by the elbow. He barely registered entering the Slytherin dungeons and going straight to the bathroom. He barely registered crouching beside the toilet and muffling a scream against the back of his hand.

He had never felt so small or insignificant. He had never felt so desperately weak, so powerless. But even that was not enough to overcome how terribly awful he felt and how he just wanted to disappear, to go away, to fade away… He felt absolutely lost and empty. Yet, the feelings were exploding inside his chest.

When Professor Snape gathered all Slytherin students to communicate new safety rules that would be in place to guarantee that no student was attacked again, Draco remained in silence without actually listening to a word said by his favorite teacher. He knew that Daphne, Theo and Blaise were keeping their eyes on him, but he suddenly did not care about their suspicions. He cared about nothing at all, yet it was actually _caring_ that made him feel that way.

Hermione Granger was petrified in the Hospital Wing and it was all his fault. He had done nothing, he had chosen the easy way out, he had been a coward and had preferred to believe that four months with no attacks meant that _she_ was safe. He had had no willingness, no courage, no cleverness. It was all his fault.

Embarrassment. Shame. Weakness. Stupidity. Failure. And now it had costed him Hermione's life.

Draco had realized how much he could come to despise himself. And likewise, he had never realized how much Hermione Granger meant to him.

"She'll be alright," Theo said later that night to no one in particular. He was hugging his knees and watching the fireplace with hazy eyes. "They're brewing that Mandrake Restorative Draught and soon they'll administer to the students, I overheard Sprout talking to Snape."

"And she's just petrified, which means that she was not killed," Daphne nodded, her face ashen and overtaken with sadness. She clutched Theo's hand firmly and the boy placed his head over her shoulders, sniffing. Blaise was being uncharacteristically quiet, his face looking somber and deep in thought.

_But she could have been killed and it would be all my fault_, Draco thought bitterly. Why hadn't he looked for Dumbledore? Why had he allowed that situation to come to that? Why hadn't he confronted his Father and found out the truth? Why hadn't he done _anything_? Why had he done _nothing_?

_You're just like your father, _Malfoy.

Granger had told him that a lifetime ago and he had never fully appreciated or even understood the meaning of her words until that point. Her statement had always angered him, made him hate her. Except that he did not hate her. If anything, he wanted to prove her wrong and show her that he was nothing like Lucius Malfoy. He was not cold, merciless, bitter, bigoted, full of prejudice and hatred. He had been raised that way by his father, but he would not be like that. _He would not be like his Father_.

He knew who she was. He knew what she was. She was different. She was lesser. She was inferior. She was filthy. She was scum. _She was a mudblood – just a mudblood_.

But in that very moment, it made no difference at all.

"Draco, where are you going?" Theo called after him as the boy stormed off the Common Room without another word.

Draco all but dashed through the corridors, thanking whoever was listening that playing Quidditch made it bearable to climb he did not know how many floors of staircases. He just kept running and climbing staircase after staircase, completely oblivious to the possibility of being caught by Filch. He _had to_ talk to Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster whose sight he could barely stand. And even now, he could not even say why the hell he hated so hard that old man and his sparkling blue eyes. Despair really does make one reach to unthinkable lengths.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

_Shit_. It was McGonagall.

"I need to talk to Dumbledore."

"_Professor_ Dumbledore is no longer at this School. The Board of Governors called for his dismissal. Perhaps you should ask your father why," she added, dryly, her lips clipped and Draco's stomach dropped even lower. Was it even possible to feel worse? "Twenty points will be taken from Slytherin for being outside past curfew. Go back to your Common Room immediately or I will give you a week of detentions."

That could not be happening. For Salazar, that was his one and only chance of fixing that and doing something! Now, there was no one else to help Draco, to help Hermione. Dumbledore had been dismissed and Draco was all alone.

He felt like crying, screaming. He felt like praying to whoever was listening, begging to whoever was listening. But he knew it was pointless. It would make no difference at all. There were no words to describe the horror, the fear, the regret or the pain. He was alone. And so was Hermione.

"Come on, Draco, we're gonna be late for class," Crabbe called after him days later as they left Herbology class. Just a couple of day after her attack, but a lifetime anyway.

He did not want to go anywhere, but could not stand staying anywhere. He did not want to see anyone, but whenever he was alone, the loneliness was unbearable. He felt so miserable and desperate and confused all at once, and sometimes it was like his chest and skull were going to crack open when those goddamn feelings started spluttering from his insides. He spent day and night thinking of his guilt and how it was his fault that Hermione had almost been killed. He spent all day and night drowning on what-ifs and second-guesses. He spent all day and night floundering in regret.

Pity that it had taken that awful situation for him to realize that he truly cared about her.

The sharp, deafening pain of self-discovery was unbearable, but so was the eerie melancholy of unconsciousness. That unknown territory of vulnerability, of admitting his mistakes was almost as painful as realizing that Hermione Granger was not just a mudblood, but a _friend_, and one that he had hated and humiliated for the same reason she now lied petrified in the Hospital Wing.

Her blood – what difference did it make? Until that day, all the difference in the world. In that very day, no difference at all. Yet, all the difference in the world.

Scum, but a friend. Filthy, but a friend. Different, but a friend. Inferior, but a friend. A mudblood, but a friend.

He heard Crabbe's voice coming from another dimension as they left the Hogwarts greenhouses. He turned around, desperate to run away, but then his eyes landed on some yellow flowers to his right. His mouth formed a perfect O. He knew those flowers. He probably knew them better than anyone else.

_That's it._

If he could not help her, he would at least let her know that he had tried, that he had had the courage to do _something_ when he had always done _nothing_. As inconspicuously as he could, he snatched a bunch of the flowers and ran as fast as he could back to his dorm to put them in some water.

A mudblood, but a friend.

Draco waited patiently all day long until he could carry out his plan. He did not know why, he did not understand what exactly Granger did to him or why he felt that way about her. Her attack had not changed his mind about what she was, still it had awakened so many questions. And even though they were screaming for his attention, there were other things screaming louder and more insistently. He knew that those questions would strike him as soon as Granger was safe and sound, but he could not afford to care about that right now.

A mudblood, but a friend.

And right now, all Draco cared about was the latter. There would be plenty of time to care about the former once she was safe.

He had to show her that he had tried, that he cared, that _he wasn't like his father_, and that _he did not have to be that way_. Time would take care of the rest – of those questions about who she was and what she represented – but he had no time right now. She had no time right now. _They _had no time right now. He had to see her. He needed to prove that he had not meant to harm her. He needed to have willingness, courage and cleverness. He needed to move past embarrassment, shame, weakness, stupidity and failure.

Thankfully the corridors were empty and Draco did not stumble upon any Prefect or Professor. Maybe whoever was listening had finally allowed Draco to do the right thing for once in his life. Taking the chance and running as fast as he could, he skidded in front of the Hospital Wing. Swallowing hard, he pushed the doors as silently as he could. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen.

"Granger…"

Hermione was frozen, completely paralyzed in the middle of a breath. Her lips were half-open like an echo. Her brown hair framed her face and gave it an eerie, almost supernatural appearance. Still, Draco felt really overwhelmed when he stared at her amber eyes. They were dark, lifeless, and soulless. There was not an ounce of the usual sparkle he had often seen there. She could very well be completely gone even though she was right there.

Before Draco Malfoy could realize what was going on, his own eyes were burning and he was raising his free hand to touch her hand – the one that was hanging mid-air as though she was about to catch something.

He had perhaps underestimated the depth of his own self-hatred and the length of his pain. Now, as he watched her half-here, half-there figure, Draco could not help but feel himself half-here and half-there as well. Because there she was – ever so close and ever so distant. Just like their friendship, just like those words that he had always wanted to tell her, but that he had lacked the courage to say it aloud.

That burning feeling is his eyes made him feel as light and as heavy as possible. And the words left his dry mouth and his constricted throat before he could help himself. as he uttered every syllable, ever letter, his heart banged heavily inside his chest. It was like extracting poison and drenching in it at the same moment. It was like removing the blinding folds of his eyes and staring straight to stare at the blinding sunshine.

"Forgive me, Granger. I know you're probably not even listening to me, but I truly am sorry. Forgive me. I wish I could hate you, I wish I could hate your large teeth, your bushy hair and your big brains! I wish I could hate your wittiness, your stupid bluebell flames and your kindness! I wish I could hate you for being a know-it-all! I wish I could hate every single time we've ever spoken! I wish we had not met at all at that stupid bloody train! I wish you would just disappear! I wish I didn't have these stupid questions making me second guess everything I've ever learned!"

Relief was only momentary because he knew that the implications of that gesture would haunt him forever. But damned he may be, he did not care. In that precise moment, he did not care who she was, what she was, what her blood was. Because in that very moment, for the first time ever, _it was not about him_. And setting aside his selfishness, his pride, his arrogance and his ego felt even as painful as staring at that lifeless girl and wondering _what if_. He closed his mouth, his chest going up and down painfully as his stomach churned once more. He squeezed his eyes shut for what felt like an eternity before gazing at Hermione's immobile and inexpressive figure for what felt like more than an eternity.

"This was entirely my fault. I never meant for you to get hurt. Please, please, _forgive me_! I know you won't even remember this, but I wanted you to know that I don't hate you, not really. I wish I could, but I can't."

He sniffed, gazed once again at her amber eyes and muttered those words that he had caged inside his heart and soul for so long.

"I wish we could be friends. Please be safe, Granger."

And then, Draco Malfoy placed the yellow flowers on Granger's nightstand. Before leaving, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. Yes, she was a mudblood. But yes, she was his friend.

And as he left the Hospital Wing, he could feel the questions coming. But it was not about him right now. It was about her and Draco had finally done the right thing about Hermione Granger.

The next day, Hermione awoke as Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey finally administered the Mandrake Restorative Draught. Harry and Ron had anxiously narrated the entire Chamber of Secrets episode: how they had found out about the basilisk thanks to the clue Hermione held in her petrified hand, how they had discovered the true location of the Chamber of Secrets and gone down there with Gilderoy Lockhart. Hermione had also learned how Harry had bravely faced the basilisk and Tom Riddle (or Lord Voldemort, to be more accurate). To her absolute astonishment, she had also learned how they had rescued Ginny Weasley, who had held the diary throughout the entire school year while being possessed by Voldemort. Harry suspected of Lucius Malfoy's involvement. And speaking of him, much to Hermione's happiness, Harry told her how he had freed Dobby, the Malfoy family's house elf.

"So it was Lucius Malfoy, not Draco," she muttered to herself as a strong and unexplainable bout of protection hit her.

"I think Hermione's still facing some side effects," Ron mocked, getting up from her bedside and sighing. "I'm starving. See you at the Great Hall." And then he left Harry and Hermione by themselves.

"I can't believe you figured out everything, Harry."

"Only thanks to you, Hermione."

"But you were really brave!" she commended him before giving the boy a tight hug.

And then, her amber eyes landed on her nightstand, where beautiful yellow flowers had been carefully placed.

"Thanks for the flowers, by the way. They're really beautiful."

"They aren't mine. Or Ron's, actually," Harry answered, shrugging. "Come on, Hermione, I'm starving too. Killing a basilisk is really tiresome," he joked with a lopsided smile.

Harry left the Hospital Wing on a hurry, but Hermione stood very still. Her brows creased as she stared at those flowers. It was just a simple bouquet, but something close to wonder began spreading inside her chest. She felt a sense of recollection, but also absurdity cloud her thoughts. So, she kept staring at those flowers for one minute, two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes until something finally clicked and she figured out what they were. Her heart skipped a beat.

They were _narcissi_.

"Draco," she whispered, grabbing the flowers and inhaling their scent.

It was not just a dream.

X

**A/N: **first and foremost, thank you to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. Thanks to Guest, TeachMeToFly, Leena F, JJ 003 and Whit96. Second of all, needless to say how excited I am about this chapter, right? I suppose the fact that it is by far the longest yet shows how excited I was!

Anyway, I know that I took some liberty in terms of imagining the effects of petrification, but this interpretation means that Hermione (and the others) held some level of awareness of their whereabouts and what was going on (like being in a coma, I suppose). Also, this does not mean that Draco has overcome his prejudices and will become a complete different person onwards. However, he has taken the first step – and that is VERY important especially considering how adamant he has been so far on admitting Hermione means something. Of course, as you can see, he still sees her as different, yet he is willing to admit that she's a friend and that he cares about her. There's still some way to go. I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know your thoughts.


	14. The flower

_"The desire to reach for the stars is ambitious. The desire to reach hearts is wise." ― Maya Angelou_

X

Summer holidays had started some weeks ago and Draco could not feel happier about that. And it had absolutely nothing to the warmth of the beautiful and tantalizing gardens of Malfoy Manor or to eating everything twice just because the house elves wanted to do everything to please him. That last term had been the most confusing one he had faced yet and he truly hoped to enjoy some peace and quiet before returning to Hogwarts.

Of course, the toughest part had been seeing Lucius Malfoy again and enduring his snarky remarks about the accusations thrown by Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore about his involvement in the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. He had deemed them "_ludicrous, shallow and completely irresponsible_" and had spent at least four dinners and six breakfasts making dull speeches about how much he hated false accusations and lies. Sure enough, he was also livid about Scarhead setting Dobby(one of their house elves) free , but most of his anger was directed towards Dumbledore becoming Headmaster again after a very short period of dismissal. He, of course, had hoped to get rid of the wizard and perhaps _make Hogwarts great again_.

Judging by the conviction and borderline obsessive tone of his words, the blonde wizard did not seem to think he was to blame for any of those awful events, though he certainly felt excited at the prospect of almost killing mudbloods and Arthur Weasley's blood traitor of a daughter. And although Draco could not prove Lucius' involvement in anything other than Dumbledore's brief dismissal, he knew deep down that he was the one to blame for _her_ almost death.

Her bewildered expression and empty eyes had been haunting Draco's dreams every other night.

Draco had miraculously managed to stay silent throughout Lucius' passionate and inflamed speeches, unable to as much as glance at his Father. The one time Draco had dared look up and stare at him, it was to meet his Father's eyes widened in a maniac expression that resonated so much hatred that Draco had looked away instantly. If he thought that behavior was odd, he did not reprimand his son and had probably assumed that he had finally learned to speak and look up only when directed to. Unbeknownst to him, Draco had resorted to a plethora of tactics to achieve such a feat, which ranged from practicing Quidditch maneuvers mentally to wondering if he would really be expelled if he accidentally turned his Father into a peacock. Of course, the downside of the latter would be scaring away the peacocks that inhabited Malfoy Manor's gardens; Lucius would probably find a way to boss them around and devise a plan to segregate the feeble ones.

Humoring himself seemed to be the only possible way to stand his presence. Whenever they were in the same room, all Draco could think of was Hermione's petrified figure in the Hospital Wing. A bout of wrath followed suit, though it was still peppered with guilt. Fortunately, the oldest Malfoy had been spending most of his time conspiring at the Ministry of Magic, which meant that Draco had been seeing him less and less.

Embarrassment. Shame. Weakness. Stupidity. Failure.

Perhaps those words were more fitting to Father than son.

Every night before falling asleep, he kept peering at the reminiscences of her frozen figure. He distinctly remembered the eeriness of her otherwise bright amber eyes and the ghost of a scream that was etched in every corner of her face. Half-here, half-there, just an empty page of a book that had been written in a foreign language. And long there he stood, waiting, watching, wondering, and the silence was infinite and so were his second guesses..

He could hear them whispering in the ebony darkness – their whispers, their flutters.

_Questions, questions, questions._

_Why can't we be friends? Isn't she just a mudblood? Why? Why? Why?_

Keeping his distance from Lucius did nothing to sooth those questions, and they now inhabited not only the depths, but the surfaces of his mind. He knew they would come, of course, however, he had innocently hoped them not to be that vicious.

Draco Malfoy had considered owling Hermione Granger and asking her to meet him at the Diagon Alley, but gave up on the idea after three pitiful attempts of a letter. It crossed his mind to talk to Theo and Blaise and ask them how they had managed to move past their prejudiced upbringing, but that would only fuel their suspicions about him. In a very desperate moment, he had almost confronted his own Father and asked him to present evidences that supported the inferiority of mudbloods, half-bloods, squibs and muggles, but that would only make Lucius disown him and keep him locked inside Malfoy Manor's dungeons until the end of his life. Unable to think of any other alternative, he had been spending a great deal of time inside his bedroom and working on the massive amount of homework given by the Hogwarts Professors while his mind traveled to uncharted and unfamiliar territories of more and more questions.

_Why is she different? Why aren't we equals? Why can't we be friends? Why do I care? Why? Why? Why? I learned that they are scum, filthy, inferior creatures… but why is that?_

The complexity and the simplicity of that word competed for his attention. It all came down to the truth – his truth – and changing something that was so deeply engraved into his core was simply gut-wrenching.

That morning, however, he would not have much of a choice.

_Toc, toc, toc_.

Rays of sunlight were peeking through the curtains and falling on Draco's platinum blonde head, bathing his pale face. He had been dreaming of something quite funny – Blaise and Theo had tricked Argus Filch into thinking that Snape had ordered a thousand bottles of shampoo and Draco was now witnessing his favorite teacher scold the caretaker in front of a mountain-sized pile of shampoos in the middle of the Great Hall.

_Toc, toc, toc._

The insisting sound woke him up with a startle. He opened his eyes, only to meet a bright and blinding ray of sun. Thousands of little stars exploded in front of his eyes, which he kept squeezed for over a minute, cursing mentally whoever or whatever had disturbed his comical, yet peaceful slumber.

_Toc, toc, toc_.

"For Merlin, I've just woken up!" He exclaimed to no one in particular, muffling a yawn with the back of his hand and messing his hair with the other.

The boy – who had grown some inches ever since the beginning of the summer – stretched lazily on his king-sized bed and blinked six times until his eyes got used to the sunlight. He glanced at the watch over his nightstand and realized it was almost seven o'clock, at least two hours before he had been waking up those last few days. However, now that he was awaken, it made absolutely no sense trying to get some more sleep as he felt perfectly and annoyingly aware. With an unnecessarily long sigh and a click of his tongue, Draco Malfoy finally got up and stretched some more for good measure while the incessantly pestering sound kept drumming inside his ears.

_Toc, toc, toc_.

Considering that going downstairs that very moment meant having breakfast with Lucius, Draco quickly decided to investigate the source of that irritating sound. After a long and meticulous scan over his bedroom, he finally spotted a chocolate brown owl perched outside one of the windows which the bird was pecking in a very bossy way. The creature obviously had no regard whatsoever for sleeping and his owner was probably just as inconsiderate. And as he studied the bird a while longer, Draco realized that he had never seen it. Theo's owl was grey and shy, whereas Blaise's was dark and majestic – much like their owners. Daphne and Pansy owned orange owls – the former's was elegant and quiet whereas the latter's… well, let's just say that Draco absolutely _loathed_ when the poor pet decided to pay him a visit. As for Crabbe and Goyle, they had never owled their friend and Draco suspected that it was because they did everything they could to avoid writing lines as they had their fair share of experience in Hogwarts.

All things considered, Draco did not have the slightest idea who that exasperating creature belonged to. Yet, the bird seemed completely oblivious to his internal debacle and kept hammering its beak on the window and watching Draco with a bossy expression that was oddly familiar.

_Toc, toc, toc_.

Frowning at the creature, he got closer, opened the window, and the bird immediately flew graciously towards the wooden desk, where it landed with a small thud.

"What the hell…"

Upon closer inspection, he confirmed that that owl most definitely did not belong to any of his friends and Draco felt a bit unsettled at having that unknown creature standing in the middle of his bedroom at such early hours. Not to mention the fact that it was not carrying a letter, but a small emerald green velvet box. The bird, however, could not care less about him. It hooted quietly and extended its leg, pecking the desk once again for good measure.

"Alright, calm down, boy," Draco sighed one more time and the owl gave him a pointed glare, which was even more familiar than the bossy expression. As the bird kept throwing daggers at him, Draco furrowed his brows even more and added, "Sorry, _girl_. There, you can have these," he carried on, giving her some treats that he kept on a small red box.

The boy detached the box from her leg and examined it carefully. The owl kept watching him with curiosity as she ate. Draco noticed that the box was not heavy, but it was certainly heavier than a letter. He shook the object carefully and heard a tingling sound that reminded him of the vials he had just bought at the Diagon Alley for his potions kit. However, unless there were six of them there (which, judging by the sound, was not the case), he was probably wrong. As if he needed another puzzle to solve…

"I take it you won't say who sent you, right?" he asked with crisped lips just for the sake of chastising the infuriating bird for disrupting his morning, but the bird simply clicked her beak once again and tilted the head to the side, watching him with a curious expression. "Let's just hope no one sent me a jinx…"

Draco pulled the black ribbon with his slender fingers and slowly opened the small box. There, to his immense surprise, he found a small glass jar, inside which there was a small piece of folded parchment. Feeling completely stunned at such a weird _gift_, Draco placed the box on his bed and pulled the parchment from inside the jar as he sat cross-legged on the floor. When he opened it, there were two words written in a very beautiful handwriting that he had seen months ago at the library.

A smile formed in his lips before he could help himself.

Suddenly, in spite of his numerous questions, he knew what he had to do.

"Mother?" he called, stepping into the greenhouse two hours later.

"I was wondering when you would finally decide to grace me with your presence," she told him in a low voice, her lips curled in irony.

Narcissa Malfoy was a tall and lean witch, with long platinum blonde hair and such a pale skin that it almost glowed in the dark. With her big blue eyes and high cheekbones, not to mention composed behavior, she was the picture of aristocracy, and every feature of hers seemed almost statuesque. To many witches and wizards, Narcissa was nothing but an arrogant and elegant woman, a society wife. However, Draco knew that there was more to his Mother than the eyes could see. She was loving and devoted, in spite of her cool and imperturbable demeanor in public. Furthermore, she was a very skilled Occlumens and very knowledgeable about spells in general, which made her a great duelist during her school years, something that she had told Draco repeatedly. On top of that, she was exceptionally loyal and capable of doing _anything_ for her family and loved Draco more than anything.

Draco loved Narcissa very, very much, and even from a young age, knew that he would do everything for her. Thus the reason he always _hated_ when people compared him to his Father. He may be Lucius' spitting image, but his heart was Narcissa through and through.

"I was doing my homework," he answered politely, taking a seat on a wooden bench and watching his Mother trim a rosebud with a thoughtful and serene expression.

Watching Narcissa take on manual labor when they had house elves to take care of that was curious to say the least. Yet, that was a hobby of Narcissa's: gardening was her thing and it had never crossed her mind to delegate something to meaningful to house elves, except, of course, manures (and she still made a point to oversee that from a distance). Draco had spent countless morning and afternoons in their greenhouse, sipping tea, reading in silence or hearing her tales from Hogwarts. And although he was not allowed to say something so bold like that, it was there that his Mother was the happiest.

"Is that why you have been watching your Father as if you wanted to hex him to the next century?" she inquired without looking at him, but he could definitely detect a hint of disappointment in her voice. Draco stammered and tried to come up with an excuse, but the witch interrupted him before he could think of a smart excuse. "Do not lie, dear, you have always been bad at that. Are you planning on telling me what is going on or should we play this tedious little game until you change your mind?"

While she removed the gloves and washed her pale hands on a marble basin, Draco took long breaths and tried to sort out his thoughts. He seemed so irrevocably resolute when he had left his bedroom, but that resolution seemed to have vanished upon arriving at that greenhouse. All he had left were those countless questions. And even though Narcissa was an understanding woman that had never participated actively in any conversation about blood purity, she had never frowned upon any of that either, and Draco was well aware that Narcissa had been raised on the beliefs of blood purity.

But then the image of a petrified Hermione flashed in front of his eyes once more. Throwing caution on the wind and deciding to have at least an ounce of _courage _for once, he sighed deeply for the thousandth time that day and asked:

"Do you truly believe in pureblood supremacy?"

Narcissa seemed alarmed at that question and her blue eyes widened ever so slightly for the briefest of seconds. Just as fast, however, she regained her composure and lowered her gaze to consider her son with a blank expression.

"Before I answer that question, may I know why you ask?" she retorted studying the boy pointedly. Draco did not know whether that was a good sign or not, but since he had already opened his mouth, he might as well allow the downpour of words to start.

"Do you remember that muggleborn that beat my grades last year?"

"Yes," she confirmed, taking a seat besides Draco and placing both hands elegantly on her lap.

"Well, when I still didn't know who she was, we spoke in the Hogwarts Express the day we went to Hogwarts. At first, she seemed _normal_, she was nothing like those creatures Father was always describing, we just spoke and that was it. She'd already read Hogwarts, a History and seemed _normal_. Yes, she does have that bushy head, she's nosy and an insufferable know-it-all… But she doesn't strike me as someone who stole her magic, doesn't seem to belong in scum… I know she's _just a mudblood_ and that I shouldn't associate with the likes of her, but…", he finished, lowering his head in defeat and fixing his eyes on the floor where a small ladybug had just landed graciously.

"But?" Narcissa asked with an encouraging tone.

"But I don't know why I should think less of her and treat her so badly," he answered without looking at his Mother, concentrated on figuring out what the little ladybug would do next. "I don't know why we're different…"

"And are you two friends?"

"Not exactly, we actually fight a lot. She's friends with Saint Potter and that ridiculous Weasel, but Daphne, Theo and Blaise spent all year long studying Potions with her," he explained just as the ladybug started crawling up a vase. "And, Mother, they actually _like her_, they don't care that she's _just a mudblood_. Sometimes she intrigues me, she knows how to conjure these bluebell flames that she carries around in a glass jar… she knew how to levitate objects when she arrived at Hogwarts even though she was raised by muggles… She's the brightest witch of her age, she's much cleverer than any of us. And she…" he started, but bit on his tongue once he realized what he was going to say.

"And?"

"Nothing," he replied immediately as the ladybug flew a little higher.

"Draco, go on, dear," Narcissa encouraged with a faint tone of amusement.

"It's like she_ gets me_," he responded, finally raising his eyes and looking at the witch, who was studying him with an expression that made him instantly self-aware and embarrassed though her eyes were kind and understanding. "I mean, it's not like we spoke a thousand times, but whenever I throw an insult at her, she gives it right back in a witty way. And Granger doesn't seem to want anything in return, she's kind and that's it. And I don't know why someone would be that way, why she's so compassionate and understanding, but she just is. And I do my best to stay away, but I don't know why I should."

"And?"

"I just don't understand why we can't be friends. She's a witch, Mother, _just a witch_."

Narcissa listened to every word of Draco's with full concentration, doing her best to keep a blank expression though at that last part it had been a bit more difficult for her to sustain. Because even in her effort to hold that cool aura, she could not help but notice how Draco's grey eyes lit upon the mention of the Granger girl and how a faint blush crept onto his face as he narrated his internal turmoil. She had never witnessed such a behavior from her son, but unlike she had anticipated when he had blurted out his question, she honestly did not mind that at all.

"She was one of the victims, wasn't she?"

"Yes, she was…" he confirmed, averting his eyes once again to the ladybug, which had now landed on the rosebuds that Narcissa was trimming earlier.

Now she finally knew why Draco had been treating Lucius so coldly.

"Listen to me very carefully, Draco. I will not pretend to consider muggles like us. I was raised all my life to think of them in a certain way and keep my distance, and I have learned that they were inferior. Yes, they are different. We have magic in us and they do not. Now, I am going to tell you something I have never told you before."

"Ok."

"Your aunt, my sister Andromeda, was banished forever from our family because she married a muggleborn. 'Dromeda was my favorite sister, she always looked after me and protected me. We were so much alike, and she was Slytherin too. Somewhere along the way, she fell in love and realized that she no longer wanted the life that our parents planned for us. My parents had arranged her marriage, of course, just like they did with your aunt Bellatrix and myself. Purebloods, of course, well-respected, wealthy and pureblood men. Upon falling in love and realizing she would never have our parents' approval, she eloped."

The effect of those words was instant. Every single word was shrouded in pain, a pain she had hidden for so long but that seemed also so fresh as if those episodes had happened just months before. Her usual placid expression had been replaced by something Draco had never seen upon her face: melancholy.

"She invited me to join them, run away, but I refused. I thought she was leaving everything behind for a futile reason, for someone who was inferior, for society scum. And I knew what my parents and the rest of my family would do when they found out… I was weak, I was a coward and let myself fall for status and possessions, for a safe life rather than a pathless one. I met her one last time to say goodbye and ask for her forgiveness, I made her take some money so that they could start their lives. I was so young and naïve and abandoned my sister. However, staying behind and marrying your Father brought me my greatest treasure: _you_. Which is why it still hurts to think about her, but I don't regret my decision."

The ladybug was now hovering beside their tulips and though Draco's eyes were fixed on the small insect, his mind was travelling far away.

"I spent so much time feeling bitterness and regret about Andromeda, and hating muggles, muggleborns and their likes even more. I thought of them as aberrations because one of them had taken my sister away from me for _nothing_. Only when they placed you in my arms did I finally understand why my sister had left us behind. She traded an empty life, a meaningless and unhappy life for something much, much more important: _love_."

Draco honestly did not have the strength to summon any word to tell Narcissa, so he kept listening to her soft voice. It was the first time since he had come home that his mind felt oddly peaceful and thankfully empty.

"So, yes, they are not like us. We _are different_. Now, I honestly do not care who you decide to befriend or talk to as long as you have character, as long as you are a good wizard. I will not impose my beliefs if they prevent you from being happy, my son. And I am truly sorry for not taking a firmer stand upon your education. I lacked courage and strength, precisely what I lacked when I turned my back to your aunt. I thought that if I loved you, beliefs would not matter because you would be surrounded by what truly mattered."

Narcissa forced a wan smile and Draco realized that her eyes were glistening. He felt an urge to do something. Should he pat her back? Should he squeeze her hand? Should he say something? However, his Mother did not seem to be waiting for any consolation and he knew that it was because there was absolutely nothing he could say to make her feel better.

"She will never forgive me," Narcissa finally muttered with a half-smile.

"You don't know that, Mum."

Narcissa regarded him in silence for a full minute and Draco averted his grey eyes, focusing them on the _narcissi_ on the opposite side and thinking about Granger once again. The ladybug had finally reached them and was now standing still in the middle of the petals, unaware of the magnitude and importance of the conversation that was happening on its surroundings.

And while he thought of Granger and the aunt he had never met, the puzzle was still there, the questions were still there, his convictions were still there. Yet, solving that puzzle, answering those questions, changing his convictions did not seem as trying as before. Maybe he could venture himself into that world and figure out the answers another time. Maybe the truth would reach him when he was ready. Maybe he did not need to find answers because they would find him at the proper time.

"You do know that that was not your fault, don't you?"

"Yes. It was Father's."

"Draco…"

"Why do you keep defending him?"

"For the same reason you do. I love him, my Draco. And I have faith in him."

"Perhaps it's misplaced."

"You will not speak ill of your Father in this house, Draco Malfoy. He is your Father."

"But…"

"If you like this girl and want to be friends with her, I will not forbid you," Narcissa told him, following Draco's gaze and smiling affectionately. "I promise that I will do my best to leave my beliefs and opinions aside because I admit that they incline me to think otherwise. I will not pretend that I do not see what I have always seen, but I will try because I can see that you want to try it too. Maybe both of us will find an answer along the way, maybe it is never too late to learn and maybe there is something to learn about that. Your Father has become a different man from the one I once knew and I know I must start thinking and acting for myself, _for you_. I have faith in him, I love him, but you are the light of my life and I would do anything for you, my Draco. I hope it is not too late for you to forgive me. I love you."

"I love you too, Mum."

Draco gave her a small smile and hugged her tightly, burying his head on the crook of her neck. And just as the ladybug flew away, Draco hoped that _she_ too had faith in him.

X

**A/N: **Thank you everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. It was easily my favorite of the bunch and I can see that you guys also enjoyed it a lot. So thanks Leena F, Mary Norton, TeachMeToFly, PhiLi08, JJ003, Whit96 and DramionEverlarkPeetatoRichonne for your reviews! I'm glad Draco's _I wish_ apology felt authentic and yes, they still have a connection and this third year we will see how it starts to grow.

Draco has not changed his mind about blood purity; I hope this is clear. He has just decided to give a chance to his friendship with Hermione and maybe find out an answer to those questions along the way. So we are going to embark into this journey and find out if he's going to grow from that. Narcissa, of course, still holds her beliefs mostly because of resentment and her upbringing, but is much more inclined than Lucius into supporting her son. And yes, Narcissa is a character that has always intrigued me, so I hope I'm able to do her justice. Also, any guess on who sent the mystery owl, the purpose of the gift and the two words? Please let me know your thoughts about this chapter.


	15. The book

_"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple." ― Dr. Seuss_

X

The beginning of that new term was much more confusing and eventful than Hermione had anticipated and she had arrived in Hogwarts just the day before. There should be nothing more than learning and talking to her friends. Nonetheless, something called _life_ had taken care of that and turned those last twenty-four hours into… well, she lacked the words to describe her exact feelings. As she headed to the Hospital Wing, her mind could not help but wander off to those absurd events.

X

It had all started during Harry's breakdown in the Hogwarts Express after being attacked by a dementor. From the moment that ghastly creature had appeared, Hermione had felt the worst she had ever felt – lonely, desperate, anguished, miserable. But before she had time to check on her friends, Harry had passed out. Upon waking up, he had talked about hearing a woman scream, but neither Hermione nor Ron had heard anything. Professor Remus Lupin, who was sharing the compartment with them, had repelled the dementor with a Patronus charm and given each of them a piece of chocolate, which had made them feel instantly better.

Harry had spent the rest of the trip in silence and, to be quite honest, none of them felt like saying anything and were left to their own thoughts. The dementor had sucked out their happiness and Hermione felt unexplainably fragile and completely drained, her mind clouded with memories that she would rather forget for the rest of her life.

Her old schoolmates. Overhearing Ron say she had no friends. Being called a mudblood.

However, those awful feelings subsided when Professor Minerva McGonagall called her aside to discuss her new timetables. Hermione had owled the witch over the holidays and asked whether there was a way to sign up for _all_ new school subjects: Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and Divination. She was not exactly interested in the latter, but still had no idea which career to pursue after Hogwarts, so maybe getting that Ordinary Wizarding Level would pay off someday…

"I have found an alternative for you to get the best out of your timetables, Miss Granger," the Professor began, peering at the girl over her glasses. Hermione's eyes lit up immediately and a wave of excitement replaced her previous gloominess. "I must warn you that I wrote to the Ministry of Magic to let them know that you are a model student and would use this device _only_ for academy purposes. What you need, Ms. Granger, is more time and time is finite, fascinating and frightening. Terrible things have happened to witches and wizards who meddled with time, but I trust you to be wise and judicious."

And just like that, Hermione had gotten herself a time-turner, a timepiece that resembled an hourglass on a golden necklace. There was an Hour-Reversal charm encased in the piece and each turn corresponded to an hour back in time. Then, with a severity that managed to surpass everything the old witch had ever told Hermione, McGonagall stated that she could _never, under any circumstance_ be seen by her old-self. _Terrible things have happened to witches and wizards who meddled with time_, she repeated, before telling Hermione off and advising her (more like making Hermione promise) to be wise.

Nonetheless, it was not long before Hermione started regretting her decision to sign up for _all_ of the subjects. And that happened, of course, upon stepping into the Divination office up in the North Tower. The class was like a small greenhouse where either an incense shop or a perfumery had blown up and she could sense a migraine blasting inside her head as she whiffed that horrendous scent. Sybil Trelawney, the Divination Professor, looked like an enormous bug with those glasses that made her eyes look ten times bigger and beaded necklaces placed around her skinny neck. Hermione was not one to judge a book by its cover, but the witch could not be a more accurate depiction of what Divination entailed. There was absolutely no logic whatsoever to that subject and the witch had started that first class by predicting a plethora of catastrophes that would descend upon each student, especially Harry, who apparently was not going to live long enough to see the end of the term.

Fortunately, Professor McGonagall had found an ill-looking Harry in the middle of the corridor and enlightened that the Divination teacher did that every year and that no one had ever died. According to her, it was Trelawney's special way of welcoming her students, but Hermione noticed very well the skepticism in her favorite teacher's tone and the way her lips crisped more than ever upon mentioning that subject. She, of course, had an inkling suspicion as to why.

Later that day, the trio made way to their first Care of Magical Creatures class and Hermione had to admit that she was very thrilled for Hagrid, who had been introduced as their new professor. After all that commotion last term in which he had been unfairly accused of reopening the Chamber of Secrets (something he had not even done the first time), that was the least they could do to make up for that injustice.

Hermione absolutely loved the wizarding world, but she had to admit that it was as biased, bigoted and prejudiced as the muggle one. As she always reminded herself, it always came down to _people_.

"Hey, Hermione, what's up with that tan?" she heard a familiar voice calling from behind.

"I told you I went to France, Daph," she answered with a roll of her amber eyes as she stood behind to greet her friend. Ron and Harry exchanged skeptical glances and muttered something under their breaths before leaving them.

"Next time I wouldn't mind being invited to go with you," she chuckled, and Hermione rolled her eyes another time.

"As if you didn't spend the entire summer by the pool," Theo piped in, clutching his Monstrous Book of Monsters so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"What else was I supposed to do?" the Slytherin girl asked with a scowl, prodding a finger against the book; Theo lost a bit of his balance, but Hermione held him in place by the elbow.

"I don't know. Maybe reply to my letters on time," he countered with another scowl and Daphne huffed impatiently, tossing her honey blonde hair over the shoulder.

"I thought you wouldn't sign up for this class, Theo. What if we have to study werewolves?" Hermione asked in a loud voice before Daphne could open her mouth and engage into a pointless argument.

"They can't make us do that," he glowered while Daphne and Hermione exchanged mischievous glances and giggled.; Theo was absolutely scared of werewolves. "Can they?" he then added with an abrupt jolt of his neck, looking everywhere as if he expected a werewolf to jump out the nearest bush and attack hem.

"Of course they can't, Theo. And that's because they are humans, not beasts. Besides, we will have that covered in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"You've already read that book?" Daphne raised her eyebrows in bewilderment, while Theo let out a sigh of relief.

"Just a light reading…"

"She probably read all of them, Daph. So, did you figure how stop these things, Hermione?" the skinny Slytherin boy indicated his book, which had finally stopped trying to eat his fingers.

"No," she sighed, showing her own book which was tied with a leather belt.

"Well, that's a first," Blaise remarked out of nowhere in a nonchalant tone, lingering against a tree and watching the three of them with a presumptuous expression.

"What spell did you use, Blaise?" Hermione asked with amusement.

"No spell, Hermione. I simply chose not to buy the book until they told us how to stop this madness," he clarified and the three of them snickered at the same time. Hermione had to admit that she sometimes envied their cunningness…

"C'mon, gather'ound, gather'ound!" Hagrid began telling the third-year kids and Hermione waved goodbye to her friends and joined Harry and Ron in the front row. Both pretended not to have noticed her presence.

"How are we supposed to open these things?" she heard Draco ask and her stomach churned upon listening to that drawled voice.

"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," said Hagrid as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. Looking a bit crestfallen at the lack of reaction of the class, he grabbed Hermione's book and demonstrated how to do so.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered as he stroked his own book. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

"I — I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione and she did her best to stand up for the wizard and smile encouragingly, though she intimately could not agree more with Malfoy.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" Malfoy carried on and the Slytherin students sniggered whereas the Gryffindor ones exchanged angry glances at his behavior. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Yes, maybe it could do all of us a favor and rip your tongue off!" Hermione replied, turning around to smirk at the boy. But before Draco could recover from that witty comeback, they were interrupted by Ron.

While everyone stared at whatever Ron was pointing at, Hermione kept smirking at Draco and she could swear that he grinned back and mouthed "_Good one, Granger_".

"Hagrid, what's that thing?" Ron blurted out, wide-eyed.

That thing, according to Hagrid, was a hippogriff, a majestic magical creature with the front legs, wings, and head of a giant eagle and the body, hind legs and tail of a horse. On top of that, it had a cruel, steel-colored beak and large, brilliantly orange eyes. To make things even worse, the talons on its front legs were half a foot long and deadly-looking, and Hermione suspected they could tear an adult man in half. While she felt extremely unsettled at that sight, it was undeniable that it had a sort of beauty to it, especially in the way the feathers reflected the sunlight. But, as Hagrid promptly told them, hippogriffs were proud creatures who took offense on the slightest of things. Hermione stepped behind just in case.

"'Arry, come closer," Hagrid encouraged him, oblivious to how panicked the boy looked.

Hermione hoped for the worse, but thankfully Buckbeak reciprocated Harry's bow and allowed him to come closer and pat him. Clearly misunderstanding Harry's relief for excitement, Hagrid snatched the boy up and placed him on Buckbeak. The hippogriff started trotting in the middle of the glade before spreading his wings and flying across the sky. The Gryffindor students did not waste any time and promptly erupted in excited cheers, but the Slytherin students were simply too scared to express any emotion. Malfoy was staring at Hagrid with nothing but contempt, but every once in a while, his grey eyes scanned the sky as if he was waiting for Harry's return.

Hermione's eyes met Draco's for the briefest of seconds and it looked as though he would say something to her _once again_, but then he turned his head swiftly and whispered something to Blaise, who merely shook his head in disapproval.

And just after that little moment, _the_ commotion started. Draco ignored Hagrid's instructions and got closer to Buckbeak, visibly fuming at the way the Gryffindor students were celebrating Harry's triumphal landing. The next second, Buckbeak was squealing and standing on his hind legs, and the blonde boy had been thrown on the ground as gushing red blood stained his pristine white shirt. Hagrid looked catatonic and contemplated the scene with a motionless stare, while Pansy Parkinson kneeled beside Draco, sobbing and cursing the teacher with a few choice words. Meanwhile, Malfoy kept moaning and trembling on the ground while Hagrid stood dumbfounded and glued on the ground. Feeling a mix of worry and exasperation invade her senses, Hermione found herself urging Hagrid to do something.

"Hagrid, he needs to be taken to the Hospital Wing!"

X

And now, as the sun began receding on the horizon, Hermione saw herself heading to that very place, Draco's Monstrous Book of Monsters towed in hand. Obviously, none of his classmates had worried about returning the book to its rightful owner and Hermione could not blame them for doing so. The only reason she had agreed to do it was to cease the voices in her head that compelled her to check if he was alright. So, there she was, hidden under the Cloak of Invisibility that she had _borrowed _from Harry without his knowledge and about to meet someone she was not even sure would be happy to see her.

Yet, Hermione knew that that was the right thing to do. After all, he had done the same.

That knowledge, however, did not stop the multitude of questions that were bursting in many different colors and sounds inside her head. Draco had been mean, Draco had been impulsive, Draco had acted as a spoiled boy, Draco had gotten what he deserved. That did not erase the fact that that same Draco had visited her in the Hospital Wing and admitted wanting to be her friend.

Hermione had spent most of the summer replaying that scene and analyzing it from every possible angle. She had no recollections of the time she had been petrified and the entire episode seemed to have occurred in blank milliseconds – except for that moment. That moment – his words – seemed to be carved permanently and unexplainably in her brain.

_"I wish we could be friends. Please be safe, Granger."_

She had read four different books – both muggle and wizarding – about that sort of paralysis, and the fact that she had regained part of her consciousness during Draco's visit seemed to indicate a strong connection between her mind and the importance of that event. Nonetheless, being the brightest witch of her age meant absolutely nothing under that circumstance. Hermione Granger did not know why that had happened because she did not know why Draco made her feel that way.

Questions, questions, questions.

They weren't friends, were they? Maybe they weren't. But maybe they could be.

Before she could help herself, she was standing just before Draco's bed and staring at him.

Draco was lying on his back and facing the ceiling, his arm tied to a sling. Even under the blueish dim-light and from a distance, Hermione found herself studying the boy in silence and noticing how his blonde hair (no longer meticulously kept with hair gel) was falling effortlessly over storm grey eyes and the way his aristocratic features seemed even more eye-catching that way. Shaking her head, Hermione cursed herself mentally for ogling him and paying attention to something so ridiculous. Still chastising herself for being so silly, the girl wondered whether asking Daphne to return him the book wasn't a wiser idea because she was probably about to multiply the questions inside her head tenfold.

Just before turning her back, Hermione's mind traveled to the bouquet of narcissi and a very odd feeling hit her gut once more. Sighing, she got closer to Malfoy and removed the cloak. She was a Gryffindor, after all. Yes, that was it. Bravery and courage. Nothing more than that.

"I thought for a second that there was someone spying me. I just didn't expect to be you, Granger," the boy said in a drawled tone, turning his head to face the girl.

"Why do you keep doing that?" she replied breathlessly, widening her eyes and placing a hand over her heart.

"I'm a Slytherin, we can be sly," he explained with a shrug, tilting his head to the side to examine her.

Funny, she was slightly flushed and disheveled, a very different look from her usual composed demeanor. Unable to contain himself, he noticed that Granger looked very uncomfortable and unsure as to what she was doing there. She kept glancing everywhere with her big amber eyes, her mouth was parted and there was definitely a slight flush to her face. Upon closer inspection and much to his embarrassment, he found himself realizing that her hair was shorter and less bushy, falling just above her shoulders, and that her complexion was much tanner than last time they had seen each other. But, of course, that was meaningless given that last time she was nothing but an almost lifeless girl lying on the very place he now found himself.

Half-here, half-there. But now, she was _there_. Which, of course, begged for an explanation.

"What are you doing here?"

_I came to pay you back the visit_, she thought immediately as her eyes fell on the nightstand. She refrained from smiling at the sight of those bluebell flames, but her heart swelled with joy nonetheless.

"I came to give this back to you," she replied, placing the book atop his nightstand.

"Is this supposed to be funny, Granger?" he asked through gritted teeth, giving her a cool stare and raising an eyebrow, but she did not feel intimidated. "I don't want anything to do with this bloody class! A deadly creature almost killed me!"

"Oh, Malfoy, you're being ludicrous!" she ridiculed, rolling her eyes and then placing her hands on her hips. "You neglected Hagrid's instructions and got yourself in danger probably just because you were jealous of Harry! I know that hippogriffs are considered dangerous creatures by the Ministry of Magic, but all you had to do was follow the instructions!"

"If Potter did it, it shouldn't be that hard," he grunted, his eyes narrowed as he scowled at her more pointedly now. "And if you're here to present me with One Thousand Abilities of Saint Potter, I suggest you save my time and walk back to your precious friend."

"No," she retorted in a bossy tone, folding her arms.

"Ok, then do whatever you want," he huffed, looking away, but Hermione got closer to his nightstand.

"I take it that you got my letter," she said in a casual tone, gazing at the glass jar on the nightstand.

"Evidently."

"And you didn't throw it away?"

"Looks like it. Not that that bird would have allowed me, of course. Would have ripped my hand apart, judging by her behavior."

"As a matter of fact, Athena is very clever. I asked the owlery if they were selling her, but they weren't," she explained, looking a bit disappointed.

"I can see why you were drawn to her, Granger."

"May I know why?" she glared at him and he contained the urge to snort.

"You've just proven my point."

They remained in silence for another minute and it was such a comfortable stance that Hermione could not help but reminisce of their first ever conversation.

"Did you know what the spell was for?" she asked, taking a seat beside him.

"I'm not Longbottom, Granger. I figured out what it was almost immediately. A spell on a parchment and one of your glass jars. You wound me thinking so little of me. "

"You've gotten the hang of it," she mumbled in a soft voice and nodded towards the bluebell flames inside that glass jar beside him. Feeling a bit embarrassed at having her find out that he had used the spell that she had owled him over the summer, albeit also proud of himself for her compliment, Draco chose his usual antics to reply to her.

"Oh, so now you've decided to compliment me on my abilities" he grinned with a crooked smile and she rolled her eyes once again. "That means a lot coming from the brightest witch of her age."

"That's not why I'm here, you git. And by the way, why are _you_ still here?"

"Did you see the size of that bloody chicken's talons?" he questioned, looking like he could not believe her audacity. "Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep me here for the night! I was seriously injured, believe it or not!"

"Madam Pomfrey can heal cuts in a second."

"Except those that almost break or cut off people's arms!" he responded in a muttered voice. Frowning, she studied his face and detected a hint of vulnerability that did not cross his expression very often. But just as soon as it had appeared, it was gone. "I thought you had a bit more sympathy for weaklings, being the noble Gryffindor Princess and all that bullshit."

"A weakling?" she raised her eyebrows.

"I could have died, Granger," he insisted in a pleading tone, but the smug sparkle in his grey eyes betrayed his antics.

"If you wanted someone fawning and weeping over you, I should have brought dear Pansy Parkinson with me." Draco had the decency to blush and his mischievous smile melted.

"Believe me, I've already tried to put an end to that," he murmured, remembering with a grimace how Pansy had cornered him in the Hogwarts Express and then proceeded to kiss him. Ever since that troubling episode, she seemed to be under the illusion that they were dating.

"Clearly," Hermione scoffed, motioning to a piece of parchment under his backpack. It was filled with lots of hearts and love statements in a nastily sweet handwriting.

"Unless you want me to be sicker, just throw that away, Granger," he all but pleaded and Hermione acquiesced promptly with a big smile while Draco exhaled in relief. "I just hope they do something about that oaf. Frankly, a hippogriff for third year students!"

"Don't act like you're innocent, Malfoy. None of this would have happened if you hadn't decided to face Buckbeak when you knew very well that they are proud creatures!"

"That won't make any difference to Father," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Hermione to listen. Her heart sunk a bit at the fragility of his voice, but once again he washed away his vulnerability with arrogance and self-righteousness. "The least they could do was lock the bloody chicken away and sack the ridiculous oaf."

"Don't call Hagrid that!" she snapped hastily, flaring her nostrils. "You don't see me calling Crabbe and Goyle names, so I would appreciate if you did the same about Hagrid!"

"Aren't you going to scold me for mocking Potty and the Weasel?"

"I wouldn't waste my breath on that."

"Very clever, Granger, as usual, of course. But, fine, if it makes you feel any better, I won't say anything about _Professor_ Hagrid," he told her, but the contempt in his tone was so evident that Hermione's glare instantly morphed into a frown and a look of disappointment.

"I just don't get you, Malfoy," Hermione confessed with a heavy sigh and Draco realized once more how much he loathed being looked that way by her. "You're arrogant, spoiled and condescending in a moment, always trying to get yourself into trouble, but then…"

"But then what?" he pressed on, straightening his back and leaning forward in eagerness.

"But then you decide to visit me in the Hospital Wing and give me a bouquet of narcissi."

Draco Malfoy's reaction was much different than Hermione had anticipated. She had hoped that he would scold her, give one of his pointed and nasty sneers, deny that he had done that, call her a lunatic and a _mudblood_. She knew that he had been honest during his visit, but Draco (as he had just demonstrated) hated when people saw him at his most vulnerable. He mistook earnestness by weakness and did his best to compartmentalize and live under a shell of self-assurance and pride. Therefore, it was much to her astonishment when he simply turned his head and reciprocated her gaze just as fiercely.

However, as Draco watched her, he could sense the questions boiling once again on his insides.

Though short-lived, that moment spoke directly to Hermione's heart and not even the half-heartedly sneer the pulled a minute later managed to shake away the feeling in her chest.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't worry, I can help your memory."

"I think we've spoken enough, Granger. You can go back now to your spineless friends."

"You know very well what I'm talking about," she retorted with a soft voice, pulling her chair closer. Draco could sense a slight blush invade his pale complexion and a surge of embarrassment made him avert his eyes from her face when he noticed that he could count her freckles if he wanted to. "I remember everything. It started coming back when I saw the flowers. Your Mother's name is Narcissa, isn't it? I'm not here just to return you this book or talk about the letter I sent you over the summer. I'm here to return the visit you paid me when I was in this same bed some months ago."

"You weren't supposed to remember that…"

"I forgive you."

Before he could reason with his brain that looking at her was a terrible idea, he saw himself staring at her amber eyes again and contemplating the blaze of fierce determination beneath them.

"Sometimes I think I hate you too when you're mocking Harry and Ron or when you're acting like a spoiled brat like today. I hate it when you're a prejudiced, bigoted and mean kid. I hate it when you call me names. But I don't hate _you_. Not really."

They stayed in silence until Hermione interrupted it once again.

"I know that's how you were brought up. But I truly believe you're not so certain about it anymore, at least not when it comes to me. I know you haven't left your prejudices aside, but you're questioning them and that's the first step. That's… that's important. That's important to me. And I wish we were friends too. So... just think about it, alright?"

"Alright," he agreed with a curt nod, fidgeting with the hem of his blanket. "Thanks for the visit, Granger."

"Thank you, Malfoy."

Hermione gave him a little smile. She threw the Cloak of Invisibility over her figure and disappeared from sight, making the Hospital Wing feel instantly cold and empty. Draco stood still, facing the ceiling with a rare smile plastered across his face and a curious feeling lingering in his fingertips. And though millions of questions exploded inside his head, he found himself not caring at all about any of them.

X

**A/N:** thank you to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed last chapter. Thanks Leena F and TeachMeToFly. I also feel good to have Draco start questioning things and having his Mom's support. Also, yes, you were right – the gift was from Hermione, Leena F, but the two words were the incantation to produce her coveted bluebell flames.

This chapter has lots of Dramione interactions and hopefully you appreciated them as much as I did. You can probably see that things will go very slow – I mean, befriending someone you're supposed to hate is not an easy task, but they will get there! And yes, Hermione sent Draco a glass jar and the parchment contained the spell to produce her infamous bluebell flames. It's a very delicate and heartfelt gesture that calls back to their interaction in the Forbidden Forest many chapters ago. Anyway, thank you everyone and please let me know your thoughts about this chapter.


	16. The shop

_"The timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness. And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream."_ _― Khalil Gibran, The Prophet_

X

"What's got his wand on a knot?"

"No idea. But why do you care, Hermione?"

"I don't."

Hermione and Theo were partners in Arithmancy. The class had only eight students – Hermione, Theo, Blaise, Draco and four Ravenclaw boys. Arithmancy was a very technical and complex subject, so it was not such a surprise that the class had such few people. After an introductory class, Professor Vector had asked them to split into pairs and Hermione had immediately looked at Blaise's and Theo's direction – as had Draco.

She did not hate Draco, that was evident. However, the prospect of being paired up with him seemed _very_ farfetched – not to mention catastrophic. The girl had even considered using her time-turner should the occasion need. Thankfully, Theo had exchanged a funny look and a snicker with Blaise before making his way to Hermione. She had contained the urge to ask them later if they had considered pairing with each other, however that would probably earn her questions whose answers she would much rather avoid.

Now it was the end of a particularly difficult class and they were taking some final notes – except for Draco, whose arm was still tied to a sling, much to Hermione's irritation.

"If you don't care, don't stare," Theo muttered, glancing sideways.

"Why's he still wearing that sling?" she asked, brows knitted in annoyance.

"To piss Potter off, of course."

"Then why does _he_ look so pissed off?"

"Once again, no idea. Ask yourself if you're so interested."

"I'm not interested, Theo," she said through gritted teeth, but the boy looked unconvinced and merely scoffed, while she did her best not to blush.

That was a blatant lie. Hermione had noticed that Draco was looking very weird that last week. Some weeks had gone by since their last conversation and the most progress she had made with him was not being at the end of his sneers and slurs and lock eyes with him every once in a while in the Great Hall. In all honesty, she did not hope for them to suddenly befriend, become partners and laugh at each other's jokes in the middle of the corridor. Intimately, however, she had hoped to stumble upon him at Hogwarts and _maybe_, just _maybe_, talk to him, see how things were going.

Hermione had her chances every Thursday afternoon. Her Slytherin study group was still standing and so was Draco's resolution in going there precisely fifteen minutes before the end of their session. Though a Gryffindor at heart, she had yet to find the guts to stay behind and _maybe_, just _maybe_, talk to him, see how thing were going.

Nothing had happened, of course. She was biding her time and so was he.

"By the way, thanks for not telling them," Theo told her quietly, waking Hermione from her reverie. She shook her head slightly and realized that the skinny Slytherin boy was gripping the edge of the desk tightly.

"You don't have to thank me," she answered, kindly, nudging his elbow.

"You could have made fun of me," he clarified in a muttered and shy tone, letting go the edge of the desk and sighing.

"And then I would have been a terrible friend, Theo."

He, evidently, was talking about a heartbreaking situation that Hermione had come across five days before. The brunette was going to the library just before dinner when she heard a small sob coming from a classroom to her left side. Worried that someone might be hurt, she pushed the door open and saw herself staring at Theo, who was sitting on the floor, hugging his knees close to his chest and crying his eyes out in the middle of the empty classroom.

"_Theo! Are you hurt?" _she had asked as she rushed towards him, kneeling beside his sobbing figure, amber eyes widened in shock.

_"N-n-no," _he had managed to answer after a full minute through a hiccup.

Hermione could not see his face as he had buried it on his knees as if he was extremely embarrassed to find himself doing that.

_"I will get Daphne," _she had told him, placing a hand over his and almost gasping at how cold he felt.

_"NO! P-p-pleas-se, Her-her-m-mione, I don't w-want a-any-anyone!" _he had managed to blurt out, his voice breaking at every syllable and his body visibly trembling now.

Hermione's heart broke at how desolated he was. Theo had always been the most private of her friends – so private that she sometimes had wondered if they were really friends. She had had her confirmation upon leaving the Hospital Wing some months before: Daphne and Blaise had greeted her enthusiastically as she entered the Great Hall while Theo merely stared at her blankly. Then, with a heavy sigh of relief, he had warned Hermione to never scare the shit out of him anymore. Even with Daphne, who he absolutely adored, he was very quiet and kept his personal life to himself. Hermione knew very little about him – he despised his father, his favorite food was honey-glazed pancakes and his favorite color was green (obviously). And that was it.

_"What happened?" _Hermione had asked, cautiously, worried that he might be hurt.

And then Theo had told her that it was the fifth anniversary of his Mother's passing. She most definitely was not expecting any of that.

The black-haired boy had spent the following hour telling stories about Therese Nott and how much he missed her. With every word, it was like he was pouring his heart and soul in front of her and he seemed so vulnerable that she found herself at a loss of words. Hermione had not expected Theo, who always kept so much to himself and was so introspective, to share something so deeply personal with her.

In the end, she had learned that the reason Theo loved honey-glazed pancakes was because he and his Mother had always cooked that every morning and that he loved green so much because it was the color of her eyes. But there was more, there was so much more, and he had shared every bit of detail with Hermione.

Hermione Granger felt honored to be worthy of Theodore Nott's trust because he would never do that unless he truly and absolutely trusted her.

_"Thanks for listening,"_ he had said with a sniff, drying his bloodshot eyes on a green tissue he pulled from inside his robes.

"_I'm your friend, Theo, and that's what friends are for. I am very sorry for your loss."_

_"Mum would have liked you."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yes. This pureblood crap... that's _his_ thing. She didn't care about that…"_

_"So I suppose she would be really proud of you, then_," Hermione had said, putting an arm over his shoulder. Theo leaned on her and smiled softly and they stayed in silence until dinnertime.

"Thanks for not telling them, though," he heard his voice at the present moment.

"I'm your friend, Theo, and that's what friends are for_."_

If only things were that easy with Draco Malfoy…

As for Draco… well, the weeks that followed his conversation with Hermione had been so chaotic that he barely had time to ponder her visit. On the one hand, he felt mad at himself for his hesitance in accepting her friendship; on the other hand, he would rather stay away from that matter because at least that would keep those ghastly questions away. She had not given him an ultimatum, she had just offered her friendship. Nonetheless, it had felt like he had to come to a decision – a decision about her, about what she represented, about blood purity, about his allegiances, about everything. He _had to_ choose. And whatever his choice was, there would not be a second chance and he would never be able to go back.

It would be _it_.

Which is why he had decided to keep himself busy until he was ready to cross that bridge.

He had no trouble with that. The teachers seemed to be under the illusion that the students were not sufficiently burdened and were giving them more homework than ever: they were supposed to write two parchment scrolls in History of Magic about some useless war episode, work on the extremely difficult Arithmancy tasks set by Professor Vector, practice new spells and write about them, and work on whatever bullshit asked by Professor Trelawney. As a result, besides Quidditch practice every single weekend (which he just watched to keep his arm sling), Draco had almost taken permanent residence in the library – as had all third-year students, including Hermione. Madam Pince had to reluctantly transfigure more desks given the number of students that were now invading her sanctuary.

Draco had received an owl from his Father about the Buckbeak incident, in which he had categorically committed to taking every measure needed "_to ensure a fair resolution about this awful incident_". Knowing Lucius, he could expect anything, but most likely nothing good. To Draco, it would be enough for that bloody chicken to stay away in the Forbidden Forest and for that oaf of a teacher to be replaced. Nonetheless, his heart told him that Lucius Malfoy had more plans. Narcissa too had owled her son and asked him to be more careful next time. She had sent him a package of sweets and cakes, of course, but he knew that she suspected that Draco himself had been responsible for that turmoil. For a split second, it had crossed his mind to come clean, but, in the end, he had decided to keep quiet. He had already started the fire, so the least he could do was stand behind it until the end.

Staying behind his story had its advantages, of course, and one of them was torturing Saint Potter, who was still his Potions partner. Professor Snape had ordered The-Boy-Who-Unfortunately-Lived to prepare Draco's ingredients while he taunted the boy about Sirius Black. For some unfathomable reason, the Gryffindor darling did not have a clue that the wizard was actually his godfather, but it was not his job to tell Potter the truth and he knew that he would find out anyway… Until then, he would have his fun.

"If I were you, I'd want revenge," he hissed while Potter started at him with a dumbfounded expression.

"What are you talking about?" he asked back through gritted teeth, almost crushing Draco's slugs.

"Aren't you supposed to be noble and brave?" he carried on in a drawled voice and Potter flared his nostrils.

He, of course, did not realize that a pair of amber eyes was scrutinizing him from across the room.

"You two are so weird," Daphne said in a casual tone as if she was talking about the weather.

"What?" Hermione stammered with the words, turning her face on a whim and feeling a slight burn on her cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about," she then pretended to be worried about their cauldron, although they were supposed to be waiting for the potion to brew for ten minutes.

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. But all of us have already realized how you're always glancing at each other awkwardly and doing a terrible job at avoiding each other."

"What?"

"Hermione, you're the brightest witch of your age, but that doesn't mean everyone else's dumb."

"It's complicated," the girl admitted with a long and heavy sigh. Daphne did her best to contain the small grin that was beginning to form in her lips. "Are you coming to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"Yes and if you for once decide to leave your spineless friends behind, you are welcome to join Blaise, Theo and I."

"You never learn," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes, but smiling all the same. "Count me in."

Across the room, Draco was now glancing at her as guardedly as possible and trying to figure out the reason for her sly little smile. There were no basilisks or Chamber of Secrets that year, but he suddenly felt as scared as before.

As suspected, having a full schedule was extremely positive. September and October practically flew by and they saw themselves on the weekend of their first trip to Hogsmeade. Much to his dismay, Pansy Parkinson was still under the illusion that they were dating and had told everyone in Slyhterin that they were going together to the village. She would be nice if she weren't so irritating and always craving so hard for attention. As a result, even the Giant Squid seemed a far more attractive company than Pansy.

"I invited Crabbe and Goyle to join us," Draco told Pansy that morning as she gripped his forearm in what she assumed was affection. Her face dropped at once and she looked outraged. Smiling to himself, they got closer to Filch, who was checking their permission slips.

"I've told you that I'm going to the Three Broomstick with Daphne, Theo and Blaise," Hermione Granger was saying, her face flushed in exasperation. "You're welcome to join us, Ron."

"You're going with those snakes? Blimey, Hermione, you should've just handed your permission slip to Harry if that's your brilliant idea about enjoying Hogsmeade," Ron retorted, heatedly, his ears turning bright red.

"Some friend, huh?" she scoffed, glaring at him. "Just go by yourself, then."

"Yes, Weasley, go by yourself," Malfoy interrupted behind their heels. "It's not like you have any money to buy anything."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione told him, narrowing her eyes.

"Am I wrong or has Potter decided to save us from his heroic presence?" Draco scorned with a smirk playing on his lips as his friends snickered. "A real shame, not that anyone will ever miss him."

"I bet that not even your dear Father would miss you if something happened," Ron spat, closing his fists.

"I could tell the same about you, Weasley. I'm sure your parents wouldn't even notice you're gone, not when they have so many children to feed," Pansy roared in absolute glee.

"You…"

"You're quite a loyal friend, aren't you, Pansy? Just like a hound, or perhaps a pug..." Hermione mused, folding her arms and giving pug-faced Pansy Parkinson a deep stare.

"Listen to me, you mudblood...," Pansy replied, inhaling deeply, while Draco just kept gaping at them.

"Come on, Ron, let's go," Hermione clutched Ron by the elbow and practically dragged him to the end of the line. Draco had an unreadable expression as she eyed him one last time before resuming her debacle with her ginger friend.

Hermione and Ron walked beside each other in a very awkward and uncomfortable silence. She knew that he was mad at her for joining her Slytherin friends, but she suspected that most of his anger was now directed to what Pansy had told him about his family and the way Draco had dismissed his financial situation. Those were very sensitive topics and even though Hermione knew that Draco was only taunting the boy to watch him squirm, she did not understand why he insisted on doing something so mean.

When they finally arrived in Hogsmeade, Hermione had already decided that Ron needed her more than Daphne, Theo and Blaise. They would understand.

"Hey Ron..." she began, biting on her lip.

But without any warning, Ron turned on his heels and made his away to Seamus, Neville and Dean, muttering something under his breath that sounded like "go join those serpents, maybe you'll become one of them too".

Her eyes started burning almost immediately as she watched his retreating figure and her shoulders dropped helplessly. Loneliness hit her heavy heart as she realized that that would be her memory of her first ever Hogsmeade trip.

"I can't believe that…" she mumbled to herself, drying her eyes on the back of her hand.

She honestly did not understand how Ron could go so quickly from kindness to meanness.

With a heavy sigh, she decided to stick to her original plans to meet her friends on lunchtime. Then, she made her way to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, wondering if Harry would have stood for her. Ron was not a bad person: he was kind and funny when he wasn't trying too hard. However, he sometimes irked her so much, always mocking her, being immature and finding reasons to press her buttons… That behavior had skyrocketed after Hermione had gotten Crookshanks, her orange half-kneazle cat. Ron and Hermione now had daily rows…

"Well, at least I got rid of an _exciting_ trip to the Quidditch shop," the girl sighed as she made her way to the back of the shop to find color-coordinated planners.

Hermione absolutely loved buying stationery and Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop was already her favorite place. It was cluttered with a plethora of special quills, parchment scrolls, colored ink bottles and a multitude of study planners. She had to admit she was not very comfortable using quills and ink and would much rather keep using pens, but maybe she could give it a try...

"See you got rid of the ginger tumor," a drawled voice said from behind.

Hermione felt all air escape her lungs as a wave of shock hit her. Apparently, Draco's favorite means of communication was to scare people.

"See you got rid of your girlfriend," she replied, looking over her shoulder with brows furrowed. "And your sling," she then indicated his arm and he smirked widely while Hermione rolled her eyes. He was despicable.

"She's not my girlfriend," he then retorted for the sake of his honor.

"Doesn't look like it," she said with a small grin while Draco crisped his lips in obvious disgust. "So did you decide to come here just to have an excuse to ditch her?"

Draco frowned and cursed at himself. Was he that obvious?

"What happened to your weasel of a friend?" he decided to change the subject. He really had to break up with Pansy, although she was not his girlfriend.

"Shut up, Malfoy. And you didn't have to treat him that way!"

"Why are you defending him when he obviously discarded you?" he questioned, glancing casually at his nails and ignoring the way Hermione's face dropped.

"He told me to join the serpents and that maybe I would become one of you too," she told him in a low voice and he immediately looked at her realizing that she looked really hurt. That made him feel extremely _odd_.

"Well, that's not bad. We're serpents, but at least we protect our own."

"You sound just like Theo right now," she said, giggling, and Draco rolled his eyes. However, he felt much better at her change of demeanor.

"Shut up, Granger."

"Honestly, I don't understand this rivalry! We lose so much by isolating ourselves..."

"Always so noble and sentimental," he snorted, watching Hermione pick up a new set of color-coordinated planners in thirteen different colors. "Merlin, Granger, are you already worried about the exams?"

"They'll be here sooner than you can say Hogwarts," she explained, smiling at her choice and raising her chin proudly. "And if you've come by to mock me, maybe you should find Ron. I'm sure you'll have loads in common."

"Don't be such a lunatic," he snapped with a cold sneer as Hermione gave him one of her devilish smirks. "The only thing we have in common is our mutual loathing."

They stood in a comfortable silence for two minutes. Hermione was still selecting some items thoughtfully while Draco just kept looking around.

"Why are you here?" she asked all of a sudden.

She was on the tip of her toes and trying to grab an agenda whose pages turned red when assignments were overdue. Seeing her struggle and being a head taller than Granger, Draco stretched his arm and easily grabbed the item, brushing his arm on her hair ever so slightly.

"Thanks. So, why are you here?"

"You aren't the only one who shops for ink and parchment," he answered, stepping behind and looking at her with a frown.

"That's odd because these sections are over there, not here," she turned around and raised an eyebrow, but Draco was able to hold his ground and just kept that same stoic expression plastered all over his pale and pointed face. "I guess I'll never get really used to shopping for this stuff," she then added with a grimace.

"What the hell would you use instead?"

"These," she answered and then pulled a pen and a notebook from inside her purse.

"And what the hell is that?" he asked warily.

"That's a pen. That note I sent you over the summer was written in those."

Hermione then wrote his name down on a sheet of white paper. _Draco Malfoy._

"What the hell…," he told her, snatching the notebook from her hands and examining his own name. Without thinking, he tore the piece of paper and stuffed inside his robes, ignoring the look of surprise that flashed in Hermione's amber eyes.

"Want to give it a try?" she offered kindly, indicating the pen.

"Thanks, Granger, but I'd rather keep my old ways," he replied with a shrug, turning on the spot and going to another section.

At that very moment, he realized he was no longer thinking. In fact, he most likely had stopped thinking when he saw Hermione Granger enter that shop by herself and then proceeded to come up with a poor excuse to get rid of Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle so he could be alone with her. Why he had done that, he obviously did not know - nor did he care. Perhaps he was expecting that being alone with her would somehow instill some much needed courage. Perhaps he was expecting to find an answer to that conundrum in those shelves. Or perhaps he was expecting nothing and had done that just because it felt good to be around her.

Hermione followed him suit, realizing that signing up for all classes consumed more ink than she had initially anticipated. Draco was close behind and watching her knitted brows as she decided which colors to buy and then her bright eyes as she found one she liked. He contained the urge to laugh at her behavior and wondered how she would act in a bookshop.

As Draco Malfoy watched Hermione Granger in silence, the turmoil he was so desperately trying to bury came back at once. He remembered the way Hermione had eyed him in the Hospital Wing, her voice as she confessed she did not hate him and, mainly, how she told him she would like to be his friend. Draco did not mind her company at all – until he realized he was enjoying it. He did not mind her presence – until he realized who she was. And he did not mind the idea of being friends with her – until he realized what it entailed. He liked talking to her, he appreciated their comfortable silences and their friendly banters, but he had no idea what would change if he befriended her. And no matter how hard he wanted to accept it, he just could not find the courage to give her an answer.

"You know, Malfoy," she began, startling him, "I can see the gears working inside your head. You don't need to give me an answer if you don't have one."

"Granger…" he muttered, blinking three times. He really was _that _obvious or… well, maybe she really knew him _that_ well.

"If you need more time, that's fine," she went on, staring at his grey eyes. "When you have an answer, I'll be here, _Draco_."

X

**A/N:** first of all, I hope everyone is safe and taking care of themselves, their families and loved ones. I truly hope everything gets better as soon as possible. Second of all, I am sorry it took me so long to update this story – I have been on a rush these days, so this is why I wasn't able to sit down and get this done. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I do, especially Hermione's interaction with Theo. As for Draco, things will still progress slowly, but you can see that he's already willing to give it a try. Please let me know your thoughts.


	17. The fallout

"_There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man." ― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear_

X

"You're one sniveling idiot, you know that?"

"I think the best word would be asshole, Daphne."

It was the first weekend after Christmas Holidays, and Draco was sitting in the cold and dark Slytherin Common Room and staring at the marble fireplace, an odd feeling that reeked of emptiness at the tip of his stomach. Theo and Daphne's sharp words had woken him up from his contemplations, but he would much rather pretend that he was deep in thought than look up and face their narrowed eyes. He knew exactly what they were talking about and, honestly, it was much easier to keep his façade than addressing their bitter words. He had decided to bury that matter in the confines of his mind ever since the weekend before Christmas and had successfully managed to avoid Theo, Daphne and Blaise for those weeks. Draco took pride in how evasive he could be, yet he knew he deserved their utmost outrage and judgment because it was _all_ his fault.

Draco closed his eyes and massaged his temples, a lump tying a complicated knot on his throat. And to think that Hogsmeade had seemed such a special place months before… and to think that he had actually thought there would be a chance… and to think that it had crossed his mind that maybe, just maybe, they could actually be friends…

Had it all been wishful thinking? No, it had not. If it had been, he would not have to deal with the memory of her hurt expression, of the sadness and anger in her eyes.

It was most likely the thousandth time, but yet again his mind was replaying what had happened in his second trip to Hogsmeade just before Christmas Holidays.

X

"Come on, Draco, I want to see the Shrieking Shack," Pansy Parkinson whined in a saccharine voice as she clung to his arm and all but dragged him across the snowy grounds. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a vague glance and sauntered clumsily behind the duo.

"That's Britain's most haunted dwelling," he gulped, managing to get off her grasp and then pressing some wrinkles in his coat. "I think we should go back, Pans. Why are we here again? We'd be better off at Three Broomsticks."

"What's so good about Hogsmeade if we can't even come here?" she glowered at him, hands on her hips in a bossy sort of way. "Besides I'm sure no one will see us," she then added in a whisper, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Fine," he agreed with a huff after pondering his options and settling his eyes to examine her face. Merlin, she could be really pressing. "But then we're going to the Three Broomsticks and try to get our hands on something stronger than butterbeer."

"Deal," and then to his utter embarrassment, she pecked his lips in front of his friends.

The two walked side by side towards the Shrieking Shack, Crabbe and Goyle on their heels. Thankfully, it was not snowing, although the gushes of wind felt like papercuts against their faces. The usually picturesque Hogsmeade looked like a small cake covered in white frosting and that scenario belonged more in a postal card than anything else as far as he was concerned. To be honest, Draco enjoyed the wintery sight, yet he also found it very dull compared to his last trip to the village almost two months before. However, reminiscing about that day felt strangely bittersweet mainly because his mind could not help but think about Granger as well.

Draco had yet to give her an answer and he had been avoiding that subject in the hopes of waking up one day and magically finding the courage to make a choice, or perhaps waking up one day and realizing that the choice had already been magically made on his behalf. His preference varied depending on the day, but one thing was certain: he had never faced such a puzzling conundrum. No one had told him that being a thirteen year-old would be that difficult. No one had told him that teenagers had to deal with such complicated decision. Which was why all he did was spend his time studying her during classes and noticing how she kept biting on her lips as she solved those complicated puzzles in Arithmancy or how she huffed impatiently when her bangs fell over her amber eyes as she brewed Potions.

They had not talked since that day, yet her offer hung heavy over his head. Her tone had not been pressing. There was no deadline. There was no stalemate. There were no conditions. It was a yes or no question. It was a simple decision. It was just an ordinary choice. Why did it make him feel that way, then? He even lacked the words to describe the feeling. It was simply better to hope _time_ solved everything.

If only things were that simple…

"Ooooooh, look how cute they are," Pansy mused, her voice laced with venom.

Draco suddenly saw himself facing Weasley and Granger as he arrived at the entrance of the Shrieking Shack. So much for his hope. So much for his feeble expectations.

"The Golden couple is all _alone_!"

"Piss off, Parkinson," Weasley retorted with an angry step forward while Hermione crossed her arms and sighed.

"Shopping for you dream house?" Draco mocked with a smirk, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "I heard your entire family sleeps on the same room."

"Shut up, you son of a bitch!" Ron darted, but Hermione clung to his elbow and held him back.

"What a filthy mouth, Weasley," the Slytherin boy tutted with indifference, glancing at his nails. "Come on, Crabbe and Goyle, let's teach this weasel how to respect his superiors!"

"I hope you don't mean yourself!" Hermione piped in, stepping in front of Ron and glaring at Draco.

Upon that glare, Draco stepped behind. Her scowl was so intense and full of hatred that he suddenly knew he had crossed a line. He wondered how much time it had been since she had looked so hateful towards him. It went downhill immediately.

It was all Weasley's fault. Why did they have to be there together? Why hadn't she ditched the Weasley tumor and decided to do something else? Wasn't she complaining about her _friend_ last time she had been there? Wasn't she supposed to be bright and clever? Why hadn't she chosen someone better? Why hadn't she chosen Draco? Why couldn't she be a bloody Slytherin? Why did she have to be who she was? Why? Why?

The sudden anxiety he had felt upon seeing Hermione suddenly morphed to something much darker. His fists balled to his side and he could feel his eyes narrow at her.

"Are you going to allow this scum to talk to you like that?" Pansy shrieked, her face going red. "She needs to know where she belongs, Draco!"

The words were spluttering through his mouth before he could understand their meaning.

"How dare you talk to me, you filthy _mudblood_!"

Before running away from the snowballs that Potter's floating head threw at them, the last thing that Draco saw were Hermione's amber eyes shedding a lone tear, a world of misery streaming down her face.

X

"Oi! Stop pretending you're not listening, Malfoy!"

"What are you talking about, Nott?" he looked up and asked with crisped lips.

"Don't be a dick, Malfoy," Theo hissed, nostrils flared. "You know what I'm talking about!"

"What?"

"Hermione, you idiot!" Daphne snapped as she looked at Draco's seemingly indifferent expression.

"What about Granger, Greengrass?"

"If you lack the courage, at least don't be a complete idiot to her!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he countered with a blank expression before getting up to his feet. Blaise, who had watched the entire display unfold in silence and with a pensive expression, pushed him back on the couch and folded his arms indignantly. "What the hell, Zabini! Let me through, you fucking moron!"

"The only moron I'm aware of is you, Draco," Blaise muttered in a calm and calculated tone. "Do you know where we were before?"

"Don't know and don't care, Zabini," Draco tried to get up again but Blaise pushed him back another time, his eyes looking much colder this time around. "Let me through!"

"We've just found Hermione all alone in an empty classroom," he carried on as though Draco had not spoken. "She was crying. And do you know why?"

"That's not my problem!", he exclaimed after a moment of surprise, hoping his friends had not noticed his slight stammer.

"Those spineless dickheads she befriended have decided to pretend she doesn't exist. They've stopped talking to her because Hermione told Professor McGonagall about Potter's Firebolt. Apparently she thinks that it's a gift from Sirius Black. You know, Draco, your old cousin, right? Potter's godfather? Weasley, on the other hand, apparently has had enough with Hermione's cat doing what cats do and chasing after his fucking rat. In summary, one of them stopped talking to her over a broomstick and the other one over a sickling rat."

"She should choose better who she befriends," Draco replied with a shrug.

"You, of course, beat those two twats after your last trip to Hogsmeade," Daphne carried on with a snarl.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think we are stupid, Draco? We know all about you two acting all weird around each other. Don't you think we've realized the way you're always pretending not to stare at each other? Don't you think we've come across you teo doing that in the most random occasions?"

"You prying…"

"Now, I couldn't care less what you do, but Hermione's great and you shouldn't treat her that way," Daphne replied with narrowed eyes, her fists clenched angrily on her side. "I heard Pansy telling everyone what happened in that last trip to Hogsmeade! You are always blabbing about Potter and Weasley as if you were any different! You're just as pathetic!"

"I suggest you take better care of your girlfriend, Nott," Draco hissed with a cool expression, ignoring the way Daphne was throwing daggers at him.

"And I suggest you man up," Theo replied in an even tone. "Slytherins take care of their own. And Granger may be a Gryffindor but she's got much more dignity than any of us."

Had Draco heard him right? Was Theo actually treating Hermione like one of them? Did all of them consider Hermione as one of them? _How? Why? Why? Why?_

"You see, Draco, she's our friend," Blaise got up and looked down at Draco, who was now staring intently at the fireplace with a puzzled expression. "I wonder if you can actually bring yourself to admit the same."

As Blaise, Daphne and Theo left him to his thoughts, Draco realized he did not know what to do. All he could do was think of how much the crippling fire reminded him of her amber eyes.

X

**A/N:** I liiiiiiiiiiiive! I am so, so embarrassed because this update has taken so much time and I really have no excuses to explain myself. In the process of writing this story, there was the pandemic of course and more recently I started a Naruto/Harry Potter crossover (which I have updated regulary!). Anyways, this is a short update, but the next chapter is already written and I will update soon! Once again, thank you so much to everyone who followed and favorited this piece and all lovely reviews I've received. Hope you guys enjoy this one too.


	18. The tower

"_It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends." ― __Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

X

Hermione's favorite season was fall. There was something special in the way the leaves started changing colors, the way the wind blew faster and how everything turned red or yellow. The unexpected showers and cold breezes were pleasantly special, especially when all she wanted to do was linger in the Gryffindor Common Room and read something in front of the fireplace. Nonetheless, fall had been replaced by winter some time before and Hermione could not help but wish fall had stood a little bit longer that year. It was as if the weather was mimicking her mood. The sky was constantly shifting between grey and pale, the gushes of wind felt like papercuts, the Hogwarts grounds and landscape look desolated under that white and thick blanket of snow. On a second thought, the weather was more than just mimicking her gloomy mood. It was rubbing under her nose how sad, lonely and empty she felt.

When Hermione had come to Professor McGonagall to tell her that Harry had gotten a Firebolt from an anonymous source, her intention had been true and sincere. They had plenty of evidences that Sirius Black had been looking for a Gryffindor student the night he had attacked the Fat Lady portrait months before and everything had fallen into place when they had found out not only that he was Harry's godfather but also that he was the one to blame for James and Lily Potter's murder. Putting two and two together was simple enough and Hermione had come to the conclusion that that broomstick meant more than someone's generosity. Yet, all Harry, Ron and the rest of the Gryffindor students could think of was that Hermione was preventing them from winning quidditch matches. Suddenly, a sports championship was far more important than her friendship.

That sadness she had experienced upon arriving at Hogwarts and having no friends had awakened once again.

The Astronomy Tower was the only place where she could be by herself without receiving reprimanding cold glares. Not even her usual refuge in the Library would save her from the scowls and stares from her Gryffindor classmates. She had come to the Tower with her bluebell flames in tow inside a glass jar, and was now leaning against the windowsill, contemplating the white vastness that extended beyond her gaze in a deep silence.

"Are you deciding on jumping or freezing to death, Granger?"

_Great_, she thought bitterly, trying to conceal her startle at being interrupted _yet again_ by that drawled voice. So much for wanting to stay by herself…

"I'm afraid you won't be rejoicing by death today, Malfoy," she countered, coolly.

"It's not like one can have all they wish for," he replied, taking the place beside her and resting his elbows on the windowsill. "I'm glad you taught me how to conjure those flames, Granger."

"I thought a mudblood was supposed to mind her place and respect her superiors," she retorted, her tone rivaling the wind that was cutting against his face.

Draco swallowed hard. He knew far too well what he was about to face the moment he had gone back to his dorms to retrieve his emerald-green scarf and the warmest coat he could find, ignoring Daphne, Theo and Blaise's inquisitive looks. He had checked the library first and upon finding Potter and Weasley by themselves, something had clicked in his mind that perhaps she ought to be somewhere else. He had anticipated wrath, coldness and annoyance, but still it hurt being on the other end of her sharp words.

"Listen, Granger…"

"No, Malfoy, _you_ listen to me," she cut him, dryly. She turned around, her eyes sparkling with anger and bitterness and Draco averted his gaze, unable to sustain that fierce stare any longer. "You don't get to treat me however you like! I'm not one of your stupid toys that you can toss wherever you want, whenever you want! You knew exactly what you were saying, you knew exactly how that would make me feel. Even so, you did it! And do you know why? Because your lovely girlfriend thought you were supposed to stand up to the powerful and terrifying mudblood scum! Just because she had dared stand up to her friend and defend him from _your _bigotry! It wasn't just that, though! You called me a mudblood because deep down, that's exactly what you think about me. You didn't even hesitate, you simply decided to show me where I belong!"

When Hermione finished her outburst, her chest was going up and down and her cheeks had turned red. She closed her fists to contain the slight tremble she felt there in spite of the thick and warm gloves she was wearing. Draco, on the other hand, looked like he had taken a punch to his gut. And unlike Hermione had anticipated, it did not make her feel any better. If anything, the emptiness in her chest suddenly felt worse.

"Do you really think that's so easy?", he asked in a quiet tone, his voice seemingly calm. "Do you really think I can befriend a person I was taught to hate my entire life? Do you really think I can simply overlook what everyone expects of me? I can't, Granger, I can't! And don't you think I _hate_ this? Yet, the only thing _you_, my so-called friend, can see, and the only thing _everyone_ can see is how much of a coward I am because I can't do what you think is right! You're asking me to stop being myself, to turn my whole life upside down! Changing my beliefs is the same as stop being myself! How am I supposed to do that overnight?"

"You say it as if you really wanted to change," she muttered, watching his strained expression. "You don't, Malfoy. You don't want to change! Because you know how hard it's going to be! You know it won't be easy! So that's why you own up to being a bigoted and spoiled prat! You'd much rather stay that way forever than stand up and be a better person!"

"I'm not a bloody Gryffindor!", he snapped, turning around and throwing his hands up in the air. Bloody Granger with her bloody rosy cheeks, those stupid parted lips, that hideous golden and red Gryffindor scarf tied around her neck, that bushy head and those bloody amber doe eyes that were staring at him with pain and disappointment! She could go to hell as far as he was concerned. He'd much rather be all alone.

"I _loathe_ how much Hogwarts encourages this idea that our House determines who we should be just because that bloody Sorting Hat thinks we belong somewhere," she told him through gritted teeth, her eyes defiantly stubborn. "You should stop using your upbringing and your House as excuses. The truth, _Malfoy_, is that you don't think you should be a better person. You think there's nothing wrong about yourself. You don't want to change. You're afraid you can't change because you know it won't be easy."

"Stop being a bloody know-it-all!", he exclaimed, his eyes burning as he watched Hermione.

"Stop being a bigoted and spoiled brat! Stop being a coward!"

"You listen to me, you…", he began, trembling from head to toe.

"You what?!", she snapped, nostrils flared. "Mudblood scum? Mudblood freak? No, Malfoy, you don't get to tell me any of that anymore. And if that's what you think of me, so be it! I am a little mudblood scum, and I'm proud and honored of being one! And that's much more than you can say about yourself!"

They stood in silence, their eyes locked so fiercely that maybe they could melt the snow away. Draco's heart was racing and he could taste some bile inside his mouth. His hands were trembling with anger, but he was trying to conceal it by clutching the windowsill as if life depended on that. He was trying very hard to remain as stoic as possible even though Hermione's words were making his ears buzz. Hermione did not feel much different. Her eyes were stinging and her chest felt oddly cold and heavy. The only time she had come close to feeling so awful had been when dementors in the Hogwarts Express had attacked them. She knew for sure that truth was not something one was supposed to throw so carelessly at someone else. Being right did not make her feel any better this time.

"You think you're much better than me, Granger, but you don't have that much confidence in yourself. Do you know what I think? I think you're a prying and insufferable know-it-all who is trying so hard to learn everything there's to know because you care about what everyone thinks about you! You act as if you're much better than anyone else, but all you want is everyone's approval. You want everyone to forget you're a _muggleborn_ and think you're a witch who belongs in the wizarding world. But you know what, Granger? No one will overlook that, no one will look past your heritage. At least I don't pretend I will while all students and teachers keep telling you that you're very clever _for a muggleborn_! You don't even realize the way Weasley's father asks you stupid questions about muggle life as though muggles were trained animals that for some miracle can survive in this world. You go on and on about pride and dignity and honor, but I for one have _never_ underestimated you and I have never hidden what I think about you!"

It was Hermione's time to bite on her lips and keep her mouth shut while Draco kept staring at her with those grey eyes filled with hatred and… what else? Betrayal? Pain? Disappointment? Maybe a little bit of everything.

"I'll pretend I've never offered you my friendship, Malfoy," she seethed with glistening eyes. "Go back to your life full of pretenses and comfort and I'll go back to trying to please everyone."

"And you say I'm the coward one," Draco mumbled, watching the tears welling up in her eyes and trying not to admit to himself how much her vulnerability bothered him in that moment.

"I told you. Our bloody Houses don't get to determine how we should be. Goodbye, _Malfoy_."

As she retreated, Malfoy threw her bluebell flames down the Astronomy Tower.

_Goodbye, Granger_.

Hermione was absolutely right – he was a bloody coward.

X

**A/N:** seeing your lovely reviews really ignited my passion for this story once again, so I am back with another update! I am so glad you guys are happy about last chapter, even though I'm sure you're also disappointed with Draco. Hopefully this chapter provides a little bit of context about his internal debacle.

**Leena F,** yes, Draco is still a bigoted and cruel prat and **JJ 003**, you're also right because he's once again behaving like a bully and looking like he belongs with Panst. **Guest**, Harry and Ron are behaving just as bad and it's a pity Hermione has to deal with that behavior. This is something that really bothered me about her friendship with Harry and Ron in the books. **Guest**, Theo and Hermione, right? Well, seeing the way Draco's been treating, that idea would not be so bad. **TeachMeToFly**, hot and cold Draco is part of his growth, so hopefully he will be able to become a better person. **Cathyfox321**, I laughed so hard when I read your review! I'm so glad you re-read everything and still thinks so highly of this piece!

Thanks everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed this story. You rock!


	19. The punch

"_A learning experience is one of those things that says, 'You know that thing you just did? __Don't do that." ― Douglas Adams, The Salmon of Doubt_

X

Over the next months, Draco fully embraced Hermione's advice: he forgot about her friendship offer. On the surface, he was doing that because he knew it was the right thing to do – they were _nothing_ alike and their so-called friendship had been a temporary distraction, an accident, a bump on the road, an unhappy coincidence of sorts. Deep down, however, he was doing that because her words had hurt him too much, especially because he could not deny that they were true. It was much easier to pretend that nothing had ever happened and so, he had taken on ignoring her existence.

It ended up being even easier than he had expected because he only happened to see her in the classes that they shared. In those episodes, she was either tagging along with Daphne or staying by herself at the end of the classroom, apparently still cross with Potter and Weasley. He would keep his grey eyes firm on the blackboard and ignore the odd feeling that made his stomach churn when he noticed how sullen, tired and worn out she looked. Well, it was all _her_ fault. She had brought it upon herself.

"_You say it as if you really wanted to change. You don't, Malfoy. You don't want to change! Because you know how hard it's going to be! You know it won't be easy! So that's why you own up to being a bigoted and spoiled prat! You'd much rather stay that way forever than stand up and be a better person!"_

How could someone read him so easily? He was so good at compartmentalizing, at keeping things to himself and sustaining a façade in spite of all turmoil he would be feeling under the surface. It did not matter to her, though, because Hermione had always read him like an open book. He tried not to think too much about that because the truth was that he knew why she was able to do that.

_Shut up_, he would think whenever her voice would trouble his mind.

Daphne, Blaise and Theo were not talking to Draco anymore, which meant he spent most of his time with Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and Marcus Flint. The prying trio had not asked him about Granger anymore, so he wondered how much she had actually told them. Hopefully she had kept everything to herself – he would hate them knowing so much about him. He was also trying to pretend that their anger did not bother him at all. However, spending so much time with Pansy meant having to put up with her annoying and obnoxious behavior, her spoiled requests and having Crabbe, Goyle and Flint as best friends meant coming up with ridiculous plans to get to Potter and Weasley. Those days, not even that was enough of a distraction to his clouded thoughts.

On March, Draco and his Slytherin friends had gotten themselves detentions for dressing up like dementors and trying to scare Scarhead during a quidditch match. Not only had they landed into the Hospital Wing after being hit by Scarhead's Patronus Charm, but they had also lost fifty points to Slytherin and, of course, gotten themselves detentions. The icing on the top of the cake was that nothing had mattered because Potter caught the golden snitch all the same. Gryffindor was still ahead of Slytherin that year. _Yet again_. Draco could only suppose that Potter held a different sort of strong magical protection or maybe it was only sheer dumb luck. Draco absolutely _hated_ the Boy-Who-Unfortunately-Lived.

"_You should stop using your upbringing and your House as excuses. The truth, Malfoy, is that you don't think you should be a better person. You think there's nothing wrong about yourself. You don't want to change. You're afraid you can't change because you know it won't be easy."_

_Shut up__, _he had told himself when Granger's words had paid him another visit as he laid awake on the Hospital Wing.

The voice would not shut up. It was still there troubling him every once in a while in spite of his protests and feeble attempts at silencing it. Draco had tried everything he could think of to make it go away, but it was absolutely useless and by April, it was like his consciousness had turned into Hermione Granger.

His mind apparently had decided to constantly nag him with regrets and second guesses. He was avoiding that annoying Gryffindor girl for four months straight and he had not even talked to her. Why couldn't he take her off of his mind, then? Why was he suddenly afflicted by so many questions? He did not want to change, did he? He did not want to be a better person, did he? He was already pretty happy with himself, wasn't he? He wanted to live to his Father's expectations, didn't he?

Those certainties were not so certain anymore. The foundation in which he had built his convictions was beginning to crumble. It was all her fault.

_Shut up!_

He needed a distraction. He needed something to make it go away.

What was the point in avoiding Granger if she was still disturbing his thoughts? What was the point in avoiding that filthy mudblood if he could not even hold that against her? He wanted to keep his resolution, his determination, because there was no point in talking to her ever again, especially when he found out that she was friends with Potty and the Weasel once again. Yes, she now looked quite happy tagging along those moronic excuses of friends. The best he could do was lower his head and focus on the upcoming exams, beat her grades and win the Quidditch Cup. And, of course, keep tormenting Potter and his pathetic friends along the way. Yes, these were the perfect distractions. He would resort to that until her voice eventually went away.

"Look at him blubber! Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic? Father says they're killing the bloody chicken, by the way," Malfoy chortled very loudly while he returned to the castle with Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle after another Care for Magical Creatures class. Even for Hagrid's usually low standards, those last classes had been especially awful. "It's the least they can do, if you ask me. Maybe I can ask for the hippogriff's head to put on display in my bedroom!"

"And the oaf? They're sacking him, right?"

"Unfortunately they're not doing anything about that poor excuse of a teacher. Dumbledore came to his rescue and managed to avoid any sort of punishment," Draco huffed indignantly. Then, they stopped in the courtyard and he rested his back against the stone walls of the castle, pushing his hair away from his eyes; he tried to pretend he did not notice Pansy's longing sigh. "But you know what? It's only a matter of time until they sack the oaf and we get ourselves a decent teacher."

"You did it on purpose, Malfoy!"

Draco raised his head to meet the Golden Trio. Both Potter and Weasley seemed to be putting up their mean faces, their eyes throwing daggers at him, fists balled to their sides. Potter looked as if he was about to have a stroke judging by the vein throbbing on his temple and his narrowed eyes. Granger, on the other hand, seemed to be fighting her own anger by taking controlled breaths and watching the display behind her friends.

"I won't deny I did it," he conceded with a crooked smirk. "Honestly, I didn't imagine I would enjoy so much being attacked by that wretched giant chicken, but seeing these expressions in your pathetic faces is priceless. I didn't expect it to get to this point, but am I happy about it? Absolutely."

Draco's friends cackled immediately whereas the Golden Trio kept regarding him with a mix of loathing and anger.

"You see, unfortunately I'm not allowed to watch the bird's killing, but maybe you'll be luckier, Potter. After all, you're our beloved Headmaster's favorite pet," Malfoy carried on with malicious gleaming eyes. "It's a pity you're only famous for your insignificance, Weasley, otherwise you might be able to join your sidekick."

While the Slytherin students screeched and laughed, their eyes watering as they did so, Hermione's ears were buzzing and her vision was tunneling. That was the first time she was so close to Draco ever since their fallout at the Astronomy Tower. She had done her best not to think about the words he had thrown at her, but some nights she had gone to sleep listening to his cold and harsh words and trying to contain the burning feeling in her eyes. Her heart would shrink inside her chest whenever she remembered everything he had done to her and how he had not even hesitated in making her feel as bad as she had made him feel.

"_You think you're much better than me, Granger, but you don't have that much confidence in yourself. Do you know what I think? I think you're a prying and insufferable know-it-all who is trying so hard to learn everything there's to know because you care about what everyone thinks about you!"_

Malfoy had intended to break her heart and he had reached his goal. Without Harry and Ron, loneliness ended up bringing new sets of questions and second guesses.

"_You act as if you're much better than anyone else, but all you want is everyone's approval. You want everyone to forget you're a _muggleborn_ and think you're a witch who belongs in the wizarding world. But you know what, Granger? No one will overlook that, no one will look past your heritage."_

As their laughter echoed and made everything seem like it was part of a distant reality, Hermione realized all she could see was Draco's pointed features and the gleam of mischief and bigotry shining bright all over his grey eyes. He was having the time of his life at Hagrid's expense. Not only that, though. All he had ever done was make himself happy at the expense of the pain and misery of others. That was precisely what he had done to her – he had only managed to make himself feel better by belittling her, saying nasty truths that she was not ready to face and treating her like nothing – like a filthy little mudblood.

"You! You foul loathsome evil little cockroach!'

Without even realizing what she was doing, Hermione had drawled her wand and was aiming it directly at Draco's throat. The snickers ceased almost immediately and Draco's friends looked downright terrified. None of them looked as scared as Draco, though. His eyes were widened and his chest was going up and down heavily, his entire body stretched like it was trying to escape Hermione's aim.

Hermione felt a small grin make her lips twitch up at his reaction.

"Hermione, no! He's not worth it," Ron tried though he too looked delighted about the situation.

After almost a full minute, Hermione lowered her wand and sneered at the wizard. Relief washed over Draco's face and he looked too pleased with his own luck to notice the way she raised her fist.

Before he could realize what was going on, Hermione punched him.

Then, Malfoy was on the ground and holding a bleeding nose. Pansy was scrambling around frantically and trying to help her boyfriend, while Crabbe and Goyle gaped at each other without knowing what to do. Draco felt embarrassed, angry, hurt and everything in between, but all he managed to do was keep his head down as droplets of blood fell on the collar of his shirt.

Harry and Ron circled Hermione, their faces showing how marveled they were by what was going on. She, on the other hand, felt like she was on a sort of trance. She could not fully grasp what she had done. She could not trust her eyes or her ears because it looked like everything was running in a silent slow motion. All she could think of were Draco's cold words at the Astronomy Tower and every time he had gone out of his way to make her life, her friends' lives worse and unbearable. A bigoted and arrogant git. A prejudiced prat. That was short of what he deserved.

Why did it make her feel so bad, then?

"_And you say I'm the coward one."_

Yes, maybe Draco had been right about that, she thought to herself as she noticed the hurt beneath his grey eyes as he finally retreated with his _friends_.

X

**A/N: **hi! Hope everything's good with everyone. This is probably one of the chapters that I always wanted to write since I started this story. I mean, when I think of Draco and Hermione, this instantly pops up in my mind and I'm sure that's true for a bunch of Dramione fans. And considering Draco's recent actions, can we really blame Hermione? I don't think so!

**AlwaysLastToKnow**, I wonder if you like her reaction now that Draco was even a bigger of an arse! **Guest**, yes, I was kind of happy for her withdrawal as well – you can only deal with as much, right? **TeachMeToFly**, Draco and Pansy's relationship has always bothered me SO much; I had to portray her obnoxiousness and the way it rubs off on Draco. **Leena F**, yes, Hermione's outburst is really about her heartbreak over his lack of hesitation; would a friend do that? I digress… **Guest**, Draco is VERY jealous of Hermione and hopefully this chapter portrays that in between the lines. **JJ 003**, I agree and they are dancing around each other for years now; I wonder when things are getting better (hihi!). **Neekah**, I'm glad you've found it and I hope you like this chapter too! **Whit96**, thanks for the feedback and giving this a try! Hope you enjoy this one as well! **pinky317**, thank you so much for your kind words! I really appreciate that you enjoy this story and I too hope Malfoy grows soon enough. Hermione's my favorite character ever and she deserves all the best!

Thank you so much everyone for your incredible support! This has motivated me so much to get back to writing and I really, really hope you enjoy this piece. Updates are not coming so quickly because I have another piece going (Kakashi&OC, Naruto/Harry Potter Crossover, which you are very welcome to check!), but I swear I'm working on getting updates out soon enough for Skinny Love! Thanks again!


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